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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE PILGRIMS 



THE PILGRIMS 



An 
Epical Interpretation 

By 
ISAAC C. KETLER 




New York Chicago Toronto 

Fleming H. Rev ell Company 

London and Edinburgh 



Copyright, 1910, by 
ISAAC C. KETLER 






New York: 158 Fifth Avenue 
Chicago: 80 Wabash Avenue 
Toronto: 25 Richmond Street, W. 
London: 21 Paternoster Square 
Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street 



iCl.A2C.S9:-i6 



Introduction 

THIS book covers fourteen years of the 
history of the Pilgrim Fathers. It is 
an interpretation of their character and 
an attempted revelation of the motives which im- 
pelled them to withdraw from the Church of Eng- 
land. It deals with the faith which inspired plain 
English yeomen to undertake a task which men 
everywhere now regard as colossal. 

The story of the Separatist Church, founded by 
John Eobinson and others, is a part of the history 
of the Protestant Eeformation. It is a story within 
a story. It is the record of the determination of 
men within the Church of England to go the full 
length in realizing the highest ideals of the Re- 
formers. These ideals involved entire emancipa- 
tion from ecclesiastical tyranny and from certain 
hurtful Romish practices, which the Church of 
England still retained and enjoined upon the laity. 
Against all such the early Dissenters, if not openly, 
then secretly, inveighed. Calvin, and his doctrines, 
embodied their best thought and highest purposes. 
In sincere loyalty to God, and the Reformed Faith, 
they renounced membership in the Church of Eng- 
land, and, acting on what they believed to be a 
divine prerogative, established an Independent 
Body, or " Church Estate." 
5 



6 INTRODUCTION 

What the Magna Charta had merely promised, 
Calvin and the Keformed Faith fulfilled. The po- 
litical significance of Calvin's religious creed finds 
its best expression in the general doctrine of the 
Sovereignty of God and the pakity of men. 
This was a decided menace to all theories of the 
divine right of kings. To hold Calvin's doctrine 
was in the highest degree treasonable. Breaches 
of the Act of Uniformity (in the externals of wor- 
ship), which Queen Elizabeth had so solemnly con- 
demned, her successor, James the Fii'st, was ready 
to punish with unprisonment, and with death. 

The story, as here told, is, therefore, incidentally 
a defense of Calvin, and his creed. The charge, 
that the Sovereignty of God bulks so large in the 
Calvinistic system as to imperil Xhefreedmn of man, 
can be sustained only on the ground of very old- 
fashioned and crude metaphysics. There is no 
clash between the accepted philosophical concepts 
of to-day and the fundamental tenets of Calvin. 
Much of misunderstanding has come of the effort 
to harmonize his doctrine of predestination with 
crude and impossible metaphysical notions. Some- 
thing is also due to a mechanical psychology, which 
made much of faculty theories, wherein foreknowl- 
edge and predestination were treated as distinct 
and actually separable things, or acts, — as much so, 
as if they were the operations of quite different 
organs, ov faculties, of the divine mind. 

It will aid to a better understanding of Calvin's 



INTRODUCTION 7 

Creed to keep in mind, that neither J^oreknowl- 
edge, nor predestination, is a diviiie act. Such acts 
can be fore, or pre, to us only, and within experi- 
ence, which experience is, of course, temporal. It 
will also soften one's natural asperity towards the 
doctrine of predestination to take into account how 
really small a factor the human initiative is. 

I will not anticipate. The story, and why given 
this form, is the main intent of this introduction. 
The reader may ask in the language of the King 
and the Book, " Why take the artistic way to prove 
so much ? " Browning provides also the answer, — 
" Art remains the one way possible of speaking 
truth, to mouths like mine at least " ! This is 
equivalent to an observation of Aristotle's, that the 
superiority of poetry over history consists in its 
possessing a higher truth. Certainly one may add, it 
excels in bringing to the apprehending heart truths 
which the intellect alone will never grasp, — the 
essences, rather than the accidents of great deeds, 
or labours. Why, then, this way ? Because this is 
the only way to speak the truth, that is the real truth. 

The attempt has been to catch " the breath and 
finer spirit " of this story. So far as this is real- 
ized, it is art, or poetry. I make bold to claim 
that the interpretation I have given of this heroic 
Pilgrim-Action does measurably reveal " the breath 
and finer spirit," that the heart is reached and re- 
warded in a way unknown to history, or mere prose 
recital, and that therefore "the artistic way" is 
justified. 



8 INTRODUCTION 

The ohjective, that is, the accidental, is the rela- 
tively little in the story of the Pilgrim Fathers. 
That which the work-day eye fails to see, that which 
filters out on the pages of history, and is lost to the 
heart, is the thing, or essence, of abiding worth in 
the tale I have attempted to tell. 

Beginning with the rise of the Independent, or 
Separatist, Church, at Scrooby, in a. d. 1606, the 
story follows the course of the Pilgrim Fathers 
from their flight to Holland in 1608 to their land- 
ing at Plymouth, New England, in 1620. 

The book is divided into six parts, — The Flight 
(the rise of the Pilgrims, largely at or near 
Scrooby, England, and their departure for Hol- 
land) ; — The Pilgrims' Egypt (Holland, and es- 
pecially Leyden, in the times of Prince Maurice 
and John Barneveldt ; the warring religious fac- 
tions, Arminianism versus Calvinism) ; — The Pil- 
grims' Olympus (Geneva, and John Calvin's in- 
fluence ; the doctrine of Predestination, and its 
effect on the Pilgrims) ; — The Departure (the 
embarkation at Delfshaven) ; — A Tale of the 
Sea (the Mayflower voyage and the incident of 
the Jackscrew) ;— The Landing (the signing of 
the Compact and the choice of Plymouth). 

The book deals with truth, that is, with motives, 
feelings, aspiratioris, not with the objective, the 
merely adventitious. The main action is set forth 
in blank verse. The use of lyrics, for the most 
part germane to the progress of the story, is partly 
for variety, and partly because the feelings found 



INTRODUCTION 9 

their expression at times more readily in this 
way. 

During the many years I have meditated this 
tale I have at no time been able to divest my mind 
of the sincere conviction, that the Pilgrim move- 
ment is the greatest epic-action of the modern 
world, a theme well worthy of a Homer, or a 
Milton. 

" But is this poetry ? " T answer the skeptic, — 
It reaches my heart, and gives me truth, a some- 
thing which I could not otherwise apprehend, not 
accidental matters of birth and biography (life, 
dates and death), but certain vital and deeper mo- 
tions, as of the eternal spirit of truth, goodness, no- 
bility, God, mo^^ng on to a divine goal of victory 
or triumph. The story, as told here, has this qual- 
ity (at least for me), not in any one line, or stanza, 
or book, but in the whole, — the unitary, indivi- 
sible march of truth from Scrooby to New Eng- 
land. 

I. C. K. 

Grove City, Pa., August, 1910. 



Dedication 

If like fair orchids I perceived them bloom, 

And with poetic fragrance, nor have doom 

Of ruthless critics' scorn, (and yet far worse, 

Their silence), I would dedicate in verse 

These Pilgrim Khymes to one I long have known, 

So worthy of all praise, whose deeds are sown 

Like manna in the desert of this life. 

But since this may not be, the chance, so rife 

With all uncertainty, I will not share 

"With any. Each must face his doom with blare, 

Or without noise, of trumpets. Who foresees 

The praise or blame, the sad futilities. 

Or fruits, of expectation ? Oft the lure 

Tempts far beyond man's might or measure, sure 

To miss the aureole. His soul soars high. 

His feet are chained to earth, and hence the sigh, — 

God help my witless hand ! 

Would he not strive, 
This man, if Art, so coy, should keep alive 
His soul, — if in the offing of his mind 
Sailed magic argosies, fair ships, by wind 
11 



12 DEDICATION 

And tide brought nearer, pledges of a day 
Of triumph ? What high ecstasy this ray 
Of hope to write one's name with Angelo's ! 
AVould not Urania say, " My Child " ? Who knows 
A joy like this ? Not he, whose burden's weight 
Of frustrate aspiration crowns his fate 
With odorous rue and — cypress ! On the lees 
His spirit's wine drains shallow ; sad he sees 
His youthful visions vanish. Beckoned him 
Parnassus ? Nay, but he had seen a dim 
Mirage of mountains ! Fancy with her brood 
Of airy nothings filled his mind, and, rude 
Or chaste, beguiled him. 

Ah, full well I know, 
Man's will outruns his can, and, seeing so, 
I eat my heart alone ! Will any tell 
How these, my lines, shall fare, — or ill, or well ? 



Contents 

PAfiB 

THE PROLOGUE 15 

BOOK I 
THE FLIGHT 

The Origin of the Pilgrims ; Runnymede and Scrooby ; 
Establishing of the Independent Church ; The 
Wrath of King James ; The Flight to Holland ; 
The Epilogue, — The Story's Launched . . 21 

BOOK II 
THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 

Holland in the Times of the Pilgrims ; Leyden, the 
Asylum ; Prince Maurice and John of Barneveldt ; 
Warring Factions, — Arminianism Versus Calvin- 
ism ; The Synod ofDort and the Condemnation 
of Barneveldt ; The Execution of the Great Com- 
moner ; Brave Holland, — Princess Fair ; The 
Epilogue 37 

BOOK III 
THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 

The Jupiter of Europe ; The Scare- Word, Predestina- 
tion ; The Little Cloud — a Redaction with Original 
Stanzas ; William Prince of Orange on the Stage ; 
The Magna Charta, a Flickering Taper ; Calvin's 
Creed, a Sun ; The Freedom of the Will ; Leyden, 
Loved of God ; Bring Crowns ; The Man, — His 
Body, Beryl ; Two Pilgrims of Later Times ; The 
Death and Burial of Arminius ; God's Bluchers 
at ths Leyden Gates; The Epilogue . . .61 

13 



14 CONTENTS 

BOOK IV 
THE DEPARTURE 

Sunrise on the Alps, — A Figure ; Gallia's Son ; A 
Dying Nation ; All that Is Abides Timeless and 
Spaceless ; The Pilgrims' Sense of a Divinely Or- 
dered Way ; What Might Have Been, — The 
Commingling of Bloods ; Embarkation of the Pil- 
grims at the Delft ; The Epilogue . . . loi 

BOOKV 
A TALE OF THE SEA 

Out and Out on a Boundless Sea ; Creed-and-Calvin 
Haters; Choice of the Mayflower ; The Firstlings 
of the Flock ; No Darwinian Chance ; God 
Planned (Predestinated) the Flight ; The Equi- 
noctial Storm ; The Wrested Beam ; The Jack- 
screw ; A Pilgrim's Forethought, or God's De- 
cree ; Space and Time Mere Mental Forms ; The 
Philosophical Creed Explained ; Sighting Land ; 
Paroxysmal Joy ; The Epilogue . . .123 

BOOK VI 
THE LANDING 

A Surcease Sigh ; Joy Like a Stream ; Psalms of Praise ; 
A Stone Cut Out of the Mountains ; Art's Field ; 
Houseless and Shelterless on New England Shores ; 
Gentlemen Adventurers ; I Laugh a Strange 
Laugh ; A Song Within a Song ; If from God's 
Word New Light Should Break ; The Mayflower 
Cabin ; Signing the Compact ; Character Sketches, 
— Individual Pilgrims ; The Epilogue . • ^53 



Prologue 



Ho, hear my Pilgrim Story fraught 
With marvels ! You will hear ? 

Since all 

Seems dimly charactered, and naught 
Eemains but memories, I call 

Before you on the printed page. 
Resummon to enact anew, 

In mimic measures tread the stage, 
As once the Pilgrims in full view 

Of God and man counted nor life 
Nor death of consequence, while truth 

Lay prone. 

Here see the bitter strife 
Of warring faiths, the tender ruth 

Of right ever enthralled, (the key, 
A dirgelike minor, ^ane but sad), 

Ay, more, the changeless choice to be 
What God counts noblest, even glad 

To die, if so perchance they lift 
The torch of liberty, where eyes 

Straining for light may somehow sift 
16 



i6 THE PILGRIMS 

The false from true, stifle the sighs, 

(Assuage the griefs), of soul-tried men ; 
And if God will, on western shores, 

Shed wide His saving truth, as when 
The sky, its stars the golden doors 

Of light, enspheres a Continent, 
And men quick say, " Behold, from sea 

To sea the sky's begemmed ! " 

Intent 
To tell this tale, how it might be, 

(And was), — so limn it large — much did 
I read ; nor aught three centuries' dust 

In yellow leaf or tome had hid 
From prying eyes, but just this crust, 

Or crumb, as in the very nick 
Of time, (the ready at a pinch), 

Lay bare, — perked, presto ! to the prick 
Of light, as helped by hands ; and inch 

By inch, or better, line by liae. 
Said, " Take me, try my worth ; I've lain 

Embosomed in the dust of time 
To serve your need, — predestined e'en 

To find my proper place ! " 

Upborne, 
As by a hand, steady and strong, 
I, days and days listless and lorn. 



1 



PROLOGUE 17 

Now felt the thrill, as haled along 

By an invisible brotherhood, 
(Whether in me, you shall not know, 

Or out of me), this same bestood 
Me strong, daily in gloom and glow 

Of now this truth, now that, to carve 
My Phoebus ! 

I was fain to find 

Not witless, work-day facts which starve 
The soul, or bUght the better mind, 

And laugh back to man's very face 
His serious sense of deeper things, — 

Nay, I was rather wont to trace 
Invisible lines, and that which brings 

The lilied light and contour brave 
Out of their hiding, (hidden from such 

As cannot see), perchance to save 
My soul ! 

Then on I read ; and much 

Which once was all-engrossing fact 
Now seemed but foothills to the Mount, 

Which, peak on peak, was all compact 
Of strength and meaning. I recount. 

How, when the separating veil 
Was rent, which hides the glint and glow. 

And light and loveliness, and trail 



i8 THE PILGRIMS 

On trail of glory gilded low 

And high, the strings, which brace the heart, 
"Were sorely tensioned, while the breath 

Came quickly, or in lulls apart, 
For I had seen my Phoebus ! 



Death 

With all his power to turn man's night 
To day, and work mysterious change, 

Where all seems changeless, sheds no light 
But darkles in the noon of strange 

Illuminations lit within. 
My light had come ! And while I gazed, 

As through a fleecy cloudlet, thin 
As vapour, there, in outline, raised 

Above rocks, boulders, spalls of stone 
And quarry-refuse, tone and tint 

To match its metric meaning, lone, 
Uplifted, forth it stood, no hint 

Or trace o' the sculptor's art, perfect, 
Hence peerless, — I had linked my soul 

To life ! I felt its large effect 
In me, — could see illumed the whole, 

Yet hitherto unseen, import 
Of men and women tempest-tossed, 

Afloat oil wintry seas, their port 



PROLOGUE 19 

Far distant from proud Albion's coast. 

Then the blood mounted to my brow ; 
And I saw clearly at a glance 

Art's possibility, and how, 
As if by some lame, changeling chance, 

My soul had life ! 



From the sad tale 
Of silent suffering outburst 

My Phoebus, fair and line, a veil 
Scarce screening stalwart souls, who erst 

Inspired the living, breathing deeds 
Of centuries past ! In truth, I saw 

Them huddled on the marshy meads 
Which form the Humber's banks, the law 

Enforced by catchpoll-priests, and how 
In fealty to the faith they spurned 

A tyrant's meed, the solemn vow, 
The hasty flight, their faces turned 

To Leyden with its gates ajar. 
I saw them, souls one hundred two, 

Life, Hope, and Destiny, afar 
From kindred, (wives and sweethearts too). 

Youths, children, chattels, tools of craft. 
Embarked in one small boat, intent 

To tempt wild winds, (all Neptune's wrath),- 



20 THE PILGRIMS 

Precursors of new light anent 
The night's deep veil of error I 

I 

Picked from many a shard and shred, 

Gritty and grained, now low, now high, 
This truth, then that, as fancy led, 

To form the plinth, or base, of Art's 
Emprise, the column's foot or hold. 

Whence the entablature, which starts 
"With architrave, then frieze, then mold, 

(Ever my Phoebus full in view). 
The while driven from pillar to post 

By treadmill grind of old and new, 
When, lo, as by an unseen host, 

(Invisible bkotherhood, in me, 
Or out of me), I was made strong ! 

Felt the blood tingle in me free 
As air, at floodtide rush along 

Its channels, turn pallor to red. 
And cry, " Set Phoebus free, unbolt 

The granite doors ! " 

This my heart said,- 

BlVE THE FETTERS,— THE POORS UNBOLT ! 



BOOK I 
The Flight 



The Theme, — The Flight finds the Pilgrims on 
the banks of the Humber in the act of embarkiug for 
Holland. The King's officers (catchpolls), are in 
hot pursuit, and in fear of arrest the Pilgrims are 
hastily leaving the land for the ship which is to con- 
vey them to a place of safety. The story reverts to 
the suspension of the Rev. John Robinson and others 
from the Church by the Bishop of Yarmouth under 
the edict of Queen Elizabeth. Two historic scenes, 
widely separated in time, are contrasted, — the one at 
Runnymede, June 15, 1215 A. d., and the one at 
ScROOBY, almost four hundred years later, where the 
Separatists, or Pilgrim Fathers, refused to wor- 
ship at the behest of King James, the successor of 
Queen Elizabeth. James the First is represented as 
the Herod and Tyrant of his day. The Flight 
closes with the scene on the banks of the Humber, 
A. D., 1607. 



The Flight 

England, farewell ! with griefs heart-laden, years 
On years aweary, clad in aching woe. 

Far other lands invite the harried Pilgrims ; 
Empire waits their onward march and slow. 



England, farewell ! But oh, love's dearth and 
deadness ! 
Hearts of pity, bowels and mercies, none ; 
England, farewell ! Beyond the seas are waiting 
Fame and crowns for deeds which these have 
done. 



England, farewell ! Unkind in all the ages. 
Harsh to truth ere yet its humble cause 

Has gained the guerdon ; then how strong to foster 
Its fair fame by just and equal laws ! 



Stand on the marshy meads which form the banks 
O' the Humber. See huddled as if to break 
The North Wind's blast a Pilgrim Band intent 
To do a deed of daring. Note the deep 
Distress, the feverish haste, the anxious mien, 
23 



24 THE PILGRIMS 

As husbands, wives, and children, driven by dark 
Extremes, with chattels, tools of craft, now seek 
Asylum far beyond the seas ! 

And place 
Your ear close down upon the firmer earth, — 
The far reverberating, telltale tread 
And tramp of hostile feet, the clattering hoofs 
Of horsemen hot upon the chase, and feel 
The blood freeze in your veins, while pallors blanch 
The sternest face ! But — thereby hangs a tale : 

John Eobinson, a man of purpose and 

Of life akin to Christ's, a priest far famed 

For purity and strength, had heard the voice 

Of God. The thought had grown, that he whom 

truth 
Makes free is free indeed ; that prisons, stakes. 
And scaffolds are but stages in the march 
Of civil and religious liberty. 
As on from Kunnymede men's visions were 
Of larger liberty to be, to do. 
To worship God, to stand approved or no 
By conscience, and deny the claim of priest 
Or king to hold in fee the souls of men. 
Or lay, by right divine, upon men's mouths 
The hand ! 



THE FLIGHT 25 

Will you hear it, as oft men speak 
In reminiscent moods, and bulk things large ? 
Will it weary the genial guest, perchance 
The host, well-meaning, weight the passing hour 
With truth's matter-of-fact display of how 
Came this, and that ? How else find pedestal 
For art's emprise ? 

Long telltale years, and back 
You stand in Yarmouth Church, and hear in 

harsh. 
Yet solemn words, the English Bull, which lays 
Arresting hands, profane and rude withal. 
Upon the spirit of the times, alike 
To friend and foe makes known the sinister will 
Of her who by the right divine rules all, 
(In truth, all England's hordes), and deftly cries, 
" The Church, the Church, the Church ! God save 

the Church ! 
Let all the people know, that thus and thus 
They'll worship God, or hear the Bull, and pay 
The price of queenly wrath,— ay, die unchurched, 
Unshrived, and damned to penal pains ! " 

But hear 
The language of the brave Compeers : " We are 
Not careful to observe your laws, — we stand 
For truth and conscience ! " 



26 THE PILGRIMS 

Ever thus in brave 
Defiance answered they the Queen's commands, 
And timely warning too, through Catchpolls, 

Priests, 
And predatory Prelates. Now the end 
Is near ! 



Two scenes ! The one at Eunnymede, — 
Where Barons, Lords, and Prelates, cowled and 

grave. 
Archbishops, Bishops, Abbots, Primate, all 
In martial ranks, (God's Army), stand ; and fair 
Upon the field of this same Kunnymede 
With stern design the tents of battle pitch, 
While broken, balked and bale, (a baited beast), 
And trembling like a harried hound, himself 
Uncurbed subverter of the nation's laws, — 
Eank, ribald kavisher, and fiendish foe 
To freedom, purity and faith, comes now 
King John, (the trysting place as said), blanched, 

pale. 
His face all sicklied o'er with glints from hell. 
To grant reluctant what the Baeons craved ! 
And this was in the annals of the Christ, 
Twelve Hundred Ten and Five, and on a day 
In June 1 What simpering, silly schoolgirl trips 



THE FLIGHT 27 

Upon the date ? Who knows not, how a day 
In June, when English meadows, lanes and lawns 
"Were spread with primrose blooms, and all the air 
Was rich in eglantine and odorous rue, 
That Langton and the troubled Barons sought, 
In truth's defense, from base, reluctant John, 
A CHARTER, (symbol, say, of what all men 
Would die to gain), a parchment- written sign 
Of the deep yearnings of the heart, whate'er 
May be the name, or colour, of the tribes 
That people this sad earth ? 

A SYMBOL 't was, — 
A SIGN ! Nor else to those four centuries down 
Must meekly worship at the beck and nod 
Of Good Queen Bess, with all obeisance yield, 
Or bear the brunt and burthen of a bull, 
A righteous bull, in spite of all the rights 
The Barons won on far-famed Kunnymede ! 
Ah, frailty, (human expectation), why 
So vam? Why fall to earth the towers of 

hope? 
The LIGHT aflare upon a darkling June, 
With royal promise of approaching dawn. 
Had flickered to its fail ! Nay, Runnymede 
Was but a sign. The thing, so signified, 
Was hence some centuries ! 



28 THE PILGRIMS 

The SECOND scene's 
At ScROOBY, justly famed for one brave deed, — 
Mere Manor town ! So shall the ages speak 
To ages yet to be and tell how men 
Triumphant in the face of fear said, " ISTo ! " 
To Kings and Prelates : " No ! we constitute 
A Church Estate, prerogative and right 
Divine ; in sacred fellowship with Him 
We serve, we dare to stand for purity 
And liberty of faith ! " 

They answered, " No ! " 
And lo, the kingly wrath ! Yet by said " No ! " 
Proclaimed, that kings, no less than scullions, shall 
Obey God's law ; that right is right, and law 
Is law ; that in His sight the meanest serf's 
The peer of any crowned king. Just so 
They fed the wrath of men who served the 

Church, 
And served it with the zeal of shrif ted saints ; 
For was not James the Church ? And are not 

Priests 
And Prelates lawful vassals of the Church ? 
Ay, ScROOBY, in our hearts we crown thee great, 
(Sequestered though) ; for was it not in thee 
A truth stood up and thundered. No ! while all 
The MINIONS of the Church bore swiftly down 



THE FLIGHT 29 

With fiendish hate and Titan-steength ? Heart 

joins 
With heart to crown thee great; for where has 

TRUTH, 

Unblanched, stood front to front with deadlier foe, 
And faithful as the Hebrew Children faced 
The FIERY FURNACE, stout and brave, nor feared 
To hurl the challenge in his royal teeth, — 
Truth's answer to King James ? 

This length to tell 
The part truth plays? How Calvin's creed, 

(I call 
It not great Calvin's creed, but God's), a 

truth 
Incarnate once, made thrones to tremble, kings 
To stand knock-kneed, and nations long enthralled 
To see a Bethlehem-star arise to guide 
The Magi-barque as far o'er seas it sailed ? 
This STAR had Kobinson at Scrooby seen,— 
A dim prophetic light far in the East, 
As when night's tapers all save it burnt out 
Above the highest peaks rises the morn. 
With snood of gold and sandals gray, ready 
To wake the labours of the various day ! 
Ay, with the ebb of night and error rose 
A STAR, like Phosphor in the East, to tell 



2,0 THE PILGRIMS 

The traveller the night is waninij, 
Is at the dawn ! 



Young Hesper led his flock of stars 
Into the night's deep blue ; 
His shepherd's crook was the golden bars 
That foUow the Sun's adieu. 

And on and on through the starlit night 
He wended his westward way, 
TiU lo, in the East he was Phosphor bright, 
The herald of dawn and of day. 

But the starry flock, where feeds it now, 
In Arcady, loved of Pan ? 
Ah, folded safe in the skies, I trow. 
While the gentle zephyrs fan 

The Shepherd to rest in the downy bed 
Prepared by the full-orbed Sun ; 
But again from the fold will the flock be led, 
"When the starless day is done. 



If when the early quicks 
And hawthorn hedge-rows scent the air, you walk 
By ScROOBY Water, where it winds its way 
Out from the branching ebns, so rich and green, 
And follow dowTi its graceful, winding banks, 
Until it joins the Idle, — reft of care 
You spend the day aramble o'er the farms 



THE FLIGHT 31 

And pastoral plains of Scrooby and behold 

The simple ways of rural, inland folk, 

The quiet of a sleepy parish, you 

Will scarce believe, that full three centuries back 

A DEED was here, which in its lofty height 

Makes kingly acts seem humble ! 

Time, dost thou 
Not bring, in thy rich harvestings, to all 
Mankind the herb of grace, — the bitter rue ? 
E'en so farewell to Scrooby ! Midst its scenes 
The Pilgrims first beheld the light. Here lived, 
And loved, brave youths and fairest maidens. 

Here 
They plighted troth with sweethearts whom they 

chose 
For better or for worse. With aching hearts, 
And oft, they laid beneath the greening turf 
The sacred forms of dearest kin, at length 
To drink the cup — and seek a far-off home. 
Where all the precious Scrooby scenes would be 
Mere pictures of the sad, unquiet mind, — 
Such as this dream of home : 

A broad green sward and a laughing rill ; 
A farmhouse shaded Avith branching ehns ; 
A milldam flanked with willow trees, 
And sheepcotes trim and the dusty mill ; 



32 THE PILGRIMS 

And just above where the land and sky 
Make wall and roof for the arching dome, 
A forest fringe completes the scene, — 
'T is a vision. Sir, of my childhood's home ! 



A long sand-bar and the sea's low moan ; 
Dull sodden weeds and treeless wastes ; 
A windy wold and drifting dunes. 
Gray sea-gulls calling, — and I ? Alone ! 
And oh, the sense of the loved and lost. 
The flood of years, — and the changed estate ! 
I long to stand, as a child I stood, 
With a heart of joy at the rose-wreathed gate. 



Stand on the banks 
O' the slowly moving Humber, where it bends 
And southward takes its journey to the sea, 
And ask what men and women these in sore 
Distress, with children and with store, and why 
The anxious, care-worn look, the hurried mien. 
The hasty flight with Herod on their track ? 
Ay, Herod on the track ! And in his zeal 
To kill the infant Child, and save the Church 
And Kingdom of Misrule, out-Herods all 
The Herods of the race, — would harrow, haunt. 
And hale to noisome dungeons and to death 
These Josephs and these Marys ! 



THE FLIGHT 33 

How a light 
Illumines the opaque o'erhanging clouds, 
And hands outstretched, as from a beaconing 

bourne. 
Welcome the footsore Pilgrims ! All intent 
They see beyond their sea-girt shores peace spread 
White wings, and strife slow-silenced into hush, 
While near at hand, ay, pressing close as if 
To baffle in the last essay of hope 
Rush pell-mell minions of the law ! 

With wives 
And little ones they come to Humber's banks 
To do the deed which makes our history great, 
And save from Herod's clutch the infant Child 
By flight to foreign shores ; so proving men 
Are BORN" TO do great deeds, and great 

deeds make 
Men great ! 



The story's launched and on its way ! 
How will it end ? Will any man 

Predict the outcome, safely say. 
Whether or not the venture can 

Rise to a climax, — reach the height 
Of an Epic, grandly lift, or loom, 



34 THE PILGRIMS 

In Appian-broad highway of light, 
Till it reaches the burning noon 

Of popular blaze ? Such things have been 
Why not again ? 

In Roman lore 

Plaudite comes with noisy din 
After the act, and not before. 

Just see the curtain fall, my friend ! 
Stilted and stiff the lines may seem ; 

Yet save your breath, and see the end ; 
For, as the story runs, I ween, 

Iambic feet will travel slow 
Through many weary lines, — let be ! 

Perchance before the critics know. 
They'll see the tripping, light trochee 

Liven the lines, temper the tone, — 
Shadow and shine anent each other 

For contrast ! This device, I own 
Is Art's. So, gay and grave, as brother 

To brother, — a choriamb in thought 
And word ! How shall I say ? I say 

It now ! 

I vary my lines, but not 
To please book-critics in the pay 

Of makers and venders of salable ware, 



THE FLIGHT 35 

(A penny a line, or some such fee), 

Whose love for Art is the heavy care 
Its worth in dollars and cents may be. 

I write as I please, (just suit myself), 
Reckless of what the critics say, 

Eeckless of bookmen's promise of pelf ; 
I sing my song, or lisp my lay. 

And hear the shards drop from the rock. 
While ever my Phoebus mutely pleads, 

" Unbar the door of the granite block ! " 

Lilting the while, or no, as needs ! 



BOOK II 
The Pilgrims' Egypt 



The Theme,— The Pilgrims' Egypt is a por- 
trayal of the leading characters, and a setting forth of 
the political and religious conditions of Holland, and 
especially of Leydeu, during and immediately pre- 
ceding the sojourn of the Pilgrims at Leyden. 
Arminius and his party in the Church, known as the 
Eemonstrants, were openly opposed to the doctrines 
of Calvin, as held by Gomarus and other exponents 
of the Eeformed Faith. In the political arena there 
were pitted as antagonists. Prince Maurice, son of 
William, Prince of Orange, and John of Barneveldt, 
the great and noble Dutch Commoner. The former 
allied himself with the Gomarists (or Calvinists), for 
the political advantage the stronger religious faction 
afforded him. The latter (John Barneveldt) was con- 
sistently counted with the opposing side. The Pil- 
grims arrived at Leyden from Amsterdam just a few 
weeks after the death of Arminius (1609), and 
naturally allied themselves with the Gomarists, or 
Calvinist party. John Eobinson, the leader, was 
active in his support of the Calvinists, giving a series 
of lectures at the Leyden University in defense of this 
faith. John of Barneveldt was a menace to the polit- 
ical aspirations of Prince Maurice. He had, by 
rare diplomatic skill, brought about a truce with 
Spain, and thus a cessation of war, to cover a period 
of twelve years. This was a great relief to the peo- 
ple, but a sore disappointment to Prince Maurice, who 
saw that by continuing the struggle his chance of 
establishing himself as Statholder or King of 
Holland would be greatly enhanced. 



The Pilgrims' Egypt 

Safe, safe, safe, 

Beyond the reach of fear ! 

Safe, safe, safe ! 

They find the one thing dear ; — 

The right to worship as they may, 

The dawn of freedom's ampler day ! 

Safe, safe, safe ! 

Brave Leyden bids them come. 

Safe, safe, safe ! 

In heart and creed they're one ; 

"Wide-open gates, loved Leyden's meed ; 

She welcomes Pilgrims in their need. 

Safe, safe, safe ! 

They turn their faces East. 

Safe, safe, safe ! 

Though king, catchpoll and priest, 

In wrath and rage, a pilgrim band 

Proscribe and harry from the land ! 

Safe, safe, safe ! 

Let the Herods howl with rage ; 
Safe, safe, safe ! 
The Titans of the age 
To Leyden's gates a pilgrim band 
As puppets come, as Princes stand ! 
39 



40 THE PILGRIMS 

Arrived in Egypt Princes, erst 
Mere puppets at Sceooby, rapt by God's good grace 
From Herod and his Predatory Priests, 
With birdlike wisdom follow the lure, and lo, 
Leyden appears, circled with wall and moat. 
While out from Turret and Keep peer eyes, — 

" What men. 
In haste, as 'twixt the sinking sun and our 
Embattlements, with reverend mien, loom large 
As Titans 'gainst the deepening sky ? " 

These are 
A hero-race come in the nick of time 
To save your City and — save you ! 

As birds 
Unerring find the chartless track, guided 
By Him who cares if one shall fail, they come 
To Leyden, — lo, the lure has saved ! 

Dark with the falling snow, 
Reft of the sunlit glow. 

The sky looks down with sombre face and drear. 
As from its nesting N'orthland brake or brere 
A bird abandoned, in the sky alone, 
Wings Southward to its heath-clad height or 
home. 



THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 41 

Mariner of the mist, 

The One who ever wist 

The track on which the shining stars shall run, 

He'll guide thee till thine airy race is done. 

Lone wanderer over desert land, and sea, 

God gives the inner light and lure to thee. 

Now had 
You been at Leyden, quaint Dutch town, when 

brave 
John Barneveldt and crafty Maurice, bold 
Ambitious Prince, for masteries chose sides ; 
Each great, a leader, this intent on war. 
That one for peace, but both for God, if but 
To be for God mean liberty of faith 
And conscience and the death of Spanish rule 
In every part of Holland ; — nay, if you 
Could there have heard the shout of joy which 

rose 
From eighty thousand lusty throats, when good 
John Barneveldt and those who stood with him 
For peace forced deftly from King Philip, 

KNAVE, 

The civil and religious rights which long 
Had been denied, or trampled 'neath his base. 
Unhallowed feet, you scarce would need to ask, 
Nor would it need be told the reason, why 
These Josephs and these Marys in their flight 



42 THE PILGRIMS 

From Herod's cruel wrath chose Leyden as 
Their Egypt, — saved the Infant Child ! 

And this 
Was Leyden, Sixteen Hundred Nine ! The time 
Was Spring. IS'ot yet the farms and pastoral plains 
Had bourgeoned with the quick of early blooms, 
Though birds had come. Upon the verdant meads, 
Dotted with cowslips, drooping April poured 
Its early rains, and far as eyes might see. 
In well-earned peace and quiet, stretched fair 

farms, — 
Houses, Churches, (their roofs a vivid red) ; 
Here dykes and dunes, there blue canals, and far 
Inland, on windy heights or sluggish streams, 
Windmills with long, laborious arms fanning 
The sky, the while grazing in sleepy herds 
Sleek cattle roamed a-fattening on the lea ; — 
Such scenes greeted the Pilgrims' eyes, when lo, 
Leyden appeared ! 



Far-famed for deeds and daring, crowned and clad 
With honour, brave asylum ! In the march 
Of TRUTH thou standest aye a beacon, — torch 
The path to light and freedom, as thou didst 
It for thine own ! 



THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 43 

And Barneveldt ! Well didst 
Thou face the foe, that once again the fields 
Might turn responsive to the share, and flocks 
With whitening fleece and bins of garnered grain 
Give forth their increase to the marts, while peace 
And LIBERTY as erst become anew 
The franchise of the land ! Great Commoner 
And Prince Plebeian, hail ! If aught can joy 
Thy heart of all that makes for mortal weal 
With listening ear regard earth's salvos. Hear 
Men speak thy praise in every clime. Inscribed 
On during tablets read how thou didst stand 
For peace unswerved, despite the rabble's rage, — 
A peace not parlous, (crowned with shame), but 

peace 
With honour to the land and to the name 
Of Barneveldt ! 

Now, that was this way : Bold, 
Ambitious Maurice fain " would force the fight, — 
Would teach the Spaniards what war means, would 

spurn 
To higgle-haggle for uncertain peace. 
While to the land remains arbitrament 
Of arms ! " 

Not so, John Barneveldt, foremost 
In councils, wise in statecraft, great in all 



44 THE PILGRIMS 

That makes man great, where men stand hero-high 

On every hand, — a patriot so true, 

That life to him seemed noways half so dear 

As the well-being of his Netherlands. 

Deep pained he saw the horror and the waste 

Of war, — fair blossoming fields, and herds, and flocks 

Of snowy whiteness fade from lowland plains, 

A vision of the past ! And fears grew strong. 

That zeal to punish knaves might in its own 

Excess and failing strength, (for now the years 

Drew on), incline Dutch yeomen long in wars 

To yield obeisance and accept a peace 

Not free from shame, might in distrust of means 

Whereby to drive King Philip from the land 

Accept a lighter yoke, ere long to weigh 

Like frost and kill the sense of liberty 

In erstwhile brave Dutch hearts. 

John Barneveldt, 
From the far land of light, hearken ! Thy name's 
Among the heroes ! Fame libations pours. 
And quaifs thee beakers of the ruby wine 
Of chivalry. Thou wast a princelike man, 
A kingly yeoman ! Thou didst lay thine all 
On freedom's altar. Gibes of " coward " slink 
Away, base things abhorred of truth, they find 
Lies' lowest pit ! 



THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 45 

Despite the hurtling wrath 
Of Maurice and the mob's wild cry thou didst 
Efface thyself — and bear the baseless chaege ! 
Ay, when the land, so loved of liberty. 
Lay prone, and fate seemed all intent to bring 
Dutch yeomen suppliant to a tyrant's feet. 
Thou didst from Philip wrest a twelve years' 

TRUCE, 

Rare diplomatic stroke, whereby the states 
Might have surcease of martial strife, recoup 
Exchequers, sadly in arrears, parry 
The thrust aimed at the nation's heart, take 

breath, 
Gain time, and later harry the hounding horde, — 
Ay, water the wastes with a welter of Spanish 

blood ! 
And this was — Barneveldt, the statesman-seer 
Sagacious in all arts fitted to deal 
"With cunning craft and save his nation's life 
And honour ! 

Barneveldt, thou didst not seek 
For JOY, — nay service was thy meed. For he 
Who would seek joy ne'er finds the thing he seeks ; 
^or here nor there it is, but service will 
Forever crown the life and make it whole, — 
Such SERVICE, ah, 't was thine ! 



46 THE PILGRIMS 

Into the deepening West the Sun 
Goes down ; and the hills 'twixt the waning light 

And me rise cyclops-like, till night, 
With its spangle of golden stars, gilds one 

By one, those giant forms. Alone 
I stand canopied, while peerless eyes, 

(Millions if one), with mild surprise 
Look down ; and my heart were a pulseless stone, 

If nor thrill of joy nor an aching sigh 
Came from my being's depths. The day. 

With its burdens and heavy cares that lay 
Their heads on pillows, passes by. 

The ceaseless joy-hunger masters my mind. 
The day afreight with its deeds, good or ill, 

Is dead. Is there aught of joy to fill 
This present ? And I sigh to find, 

That the now of life is so soon far past. 
While TO-MOREOW's meed has not yet come. 

And JOY, a plane dividing one 
Dead day from days that shall not last ! 



'T was dawn ! The night 
Of Spanish rule had slijDped, pardlike, away. 



THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 47 

Despite the long dark years of error truth 

Had smiled ; and from the purpling East broad bars, 

As golden heralds of the rising Sun, 

Shone fair upon the faces of a Band 

Of Pilgrims. All intent they now beheld 

A beaconing bourne. 'T was LEYDEisr with her 

gates 
Swung wide, as footsore and aweary they 
Had come from Albion's shores to find where they 
Might worship God, nor haunted by the fear 
Of Herod on their track, — and at a time. 
When common wrongs make common cause and 

men 
Deal kindly with their kind. 

But were they kind ? 
Nay, factions are at strife ! First, those who say, 



" God's sovereign, man's the object of His grace, 
Or of His wrath, — chose some, passed others by ; 
Those chosen, foreordained, elect ; these doomed 
Ay, reprobated, damned, shall meet their fate ; 
For was it not decreed ? A sovereign God 
Shall do His sovereign will, whate'er His will ! 
Without condition choose such as He wills 
And make them heirs of Life ; and if He choose. 
Without condition reprobate such as 
He wills to loss and shame ! " 



48 THE PILGRIMS 

" Shall Clay, forsooth, 
With asking looks demand the reason why 
The Potter uses divers ways, makes some 
For honoured use, and some for menial tasks ? 
No more shall man object ! What claim has he. 
Apostate, Rebel, Alien man ? Shall not 
The Potter make such vessels as He likes, 
And for such uses as He likes ? ShaU clay 
Assume the right to say, in jaunty grace, 
' With your permission now I ask. Wherefore 
Thou makest vessels for this use, or that ? ' 
Pretentious, foolish Clay ! Not so shall God 
Be lessoned by weak man what way befits 
His sovereign vv^ill, — 'T is God ordains ! Shall 

choose 
Some men to life, — pass others by, and as 
It suits ELECTING GRACE, or else God is 
Not God ! " 



This was strong meat, and men who took 
It for their daily fare were strong and brave, — 
Sternly unyielding, fixed, austere, heads set 
To do God's will, or die ! 

" God chose the7n, hence 
His favouring grace ! He passed some others by, 
(A fitting proof, that God is also just !) 
Who held opposing views were ' heretics,' 
' Corrupters of the faith,' ' schismatics,' and 
' Obnoxious, faithless malcontents ' ! " 



THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 49 

Ay, these 
Out-Calvined Calvin in their zeal, or held 
It Calvin-strong ; had won their creedal rights 
On blood-red fields, with martial Maurice, bold, 
Ambitious Prince, to lead the conquermg hosts ! 

" God calls them to conserve this faith ! 

To men 
Shall be the right to worship God, and as 
They please, if they but hold these blood-bought 

truths 
The essence of God's Word ! " 

They gave to all 
Men freedom, as if you should say, " May paint 
My house such colour as you like, if you 
But paint it red ! " 

Ambitious Maurice, who 
Served Calvin and his creed with Jehu-zeal ! 
He too would hold this faith against the 

world. 
And Barneveldt— his foe! With zeal would 

hale 
To dungeons and to death all such as held 
Opposing views. For was it not decreed. 
Foredoomed '? And are majorities not rig-ht, — 
Minorities not so ? Much Jehu-zeal ! 



50 THE PILGRIMS 

Out-Calviued Calvin in his zeal to crush 
The enemies of truth, — and Bakneveldt, 
His FOE ! 

But hear the other side, e'en those 
Who bravely followed in the steps of wise, 
Sweet-tempered, tolerant Akminius. 
Call these Remonstrants, men who dared 
Untrammelled by the thought of fear to hold 
Five points against five other points ; affirmed 

That " God is sovereign, great, a King ; His wrath 
Implacable, if not appeased, yet kind 
And good, a loving Father to the race, 
A Father to all tribes, if man will but 
Avail himself of grace in Christ " ! 

They held. 
That " God without condition does not doom 
To death, nor yet without condition choose 
To Life ; and that the Christ had died for all ! 
Though prone, a helpless, hapless rebel, man, 
Yet God provides enabling grace, Avhereby 
The sinner shall receive the boon of Life. 
' Prevenient grace ' ! such grace as goes before, 
Enables not the few, but all to have 
The gift of Life, if only they obtain 
It as a boon through Christ, and if they hold 
It fast unto the end ; else wrath, not love, 
Is God's great final law^ ! " 



THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 51 

And out of all 
This tangled maze — factions and bitter strifes — 
The heart triumphed, and sang its song, that love 
Abides, (the ocean's quiet deep), though far 
And wide much wreckage strews the shore : 

Years, years, years, — 
How the sad years fly ! 
Love says, " I tarry. 
While the years go by." 
Biding in the flux and flow ; 
All things come and all things go ; 
Only love abides, I know ; 
Vanity is pomp and show ! 

Years, years, years, — 
How man's strength abates ! 
Love says, " I'm stronger 
Than the fabled Fates." 
Shining when the Sun goes down ; 
Bearing loss Avithout a frown ; 
Love knows neither up nor down ; 
Choose it, whether King or Clown ! 

Years, years, years, — 

How our day-dream speeds ! 

Love copes all graces 

In its wealth of kindly deeds ; 

Heaven's meed from age to age ; 

God and love my soul engage. 



52 THE PILGRIMS 

Love ? It is a noble rage. 
Choose it, Sophister and Sage I 

Years, years, jears, — 

See the dark'ning sky ! 

Day is surely passing, — 

'T will be over by and by ; 

Light will fade from field and fen ; 

Shadows deepen glade and glen ; 

Love will prove its prowess then. 



So waged 
The bitter war,— the War of Words ! This rent 
The quaint Dutch to^^^l and made the land distraught 
With faction this and faction that, till men. 
With predesign, would have the synod say. 
What is the teuth, (the essence of God's Word), 
That they might seize the golden prize and hold 
It fast unto the end ! 

DoRT deals its dole, — 
The STERNER VIEW shall stand ! Majorities 
Are right, minorities not so ! How else 
Shall Maurice know the will of God, and how 
Disprove the milder view, SLud justly lay 
Arresting hands on Barneveldt, Ms foe ? 
Majorities are right, — the sterner view 
Shall stand, and Barneveldt shall die ! 



I 



THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 53 

'T was said, — 
And done ! 

Then sorrow sat a silent guest 
At many a hearthstone ; and the seas, which stretch 
A cordon round the grassy, lowland plains, 
Gave sobs and sighs, as when a burdeijed heart 
Is breaking, and nor day nor starry night 
Finds peace, — while from the same seas came a 

song, 
A dirgelike plaint, that life, however sane, 
Is sad : 

List, ah, list ! 

Down by the sounding sea 

Is heard a call from the mallard's mall. 

Speaks to the heart of me ; 

Sea-fowls, — gannet, auk, gull and tern 

Speak to the heart of me. 

Far-off sea-fowl voices, 

Down by the soughing sea, 

Seem to say, in an artless way. 

E'en to the heart of me, 

" All great souls are sane, but sad 

As the moan of the troubled sea." 



Sea-mews faintly calling 
Out of the darkling deeps, 



54 THE PILGRIMS 

Muffled calls from sepulchral halls, 
Speak to the soul that weeps, 
" All free life will dwell with grief, 
While the sea its vigils keeps." 

Diving petrel and murre, 
And birds of the sandy dunes, 
Touch the heart with the tender art 
Of their simple, sad sea-tunes ; 
Sea-fowls say, " All life is sad, 
As the souls of ancient runes." 

Speak, Soul, speak, 

Out of abysmal deeps. 

Is there life that's free from strife ? 

Speak to the heart that weeps. 

Innermost Soul, it says to me, 

" Life's heart-pain never sleeps." 



Here's then your Leyden, and the view, 
Called " STERN," shall surely stand ! Ay, me, and 

let 
It stand ! The need was great for sterner faith 
Than yet heroic days had known. The need 
Is now for men who feel God's sovereign will 
In all their deeds, — themselves but plastic clay 
The Potter fashions for predestined ends. 
And in unquestioning trust follow the King, 
"Whose purpose provident and pure, in all 



THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 55 

The march of mind, enfolds the destinies 

Of men. Ay, let men feel with quickening pulse 

God's sovekeign will in all their deeds ! With 

Him 
Is nothing great, is nothing small. In this 
So virile faith, men, once mere puppets, stand 
The pillars to sustain the social frame, 
Which else would topple down ! 

This faith was now 
The regnant faith o'er all that fair Dutch land ! 
O fair Dutch land, so oft the scene of strife, — 
Land of the Zuyder Zee, where years on years 
Men battled for the right, how oft has thy 
Dutch valour flowed forth red as ruby wine, 
Whene'er oppression's hand was laid on thee ! 
How oft have thy brave sons in martial strife 
Lnbued their hands in Spanish blood to save 
Sweet liberty ? 

Brave Holland, in our hearts, 
We crown thee Princess fair of all the lands. 
Which in those sad, dark days, with martial pains. 
Contended for the right. Brave Dutchland, home 
Of blood-red battle-fields, blood-red, yet fair, 
If once we see them in the light of faith ! 
For was it not in thee Dutch burghers dared 



56 THE PILGRIMS 

To give their lives to save the truth and make 
Asylum for oppressed, God-fearing men 
Of every land ? Ay, was it not in thee. 
That Leyden, quaint Dutch town, beleaguered long 
By cutthroats of King Philip, (knave), dared cut 
The dykes and let engulfing seas destroy 
The fertile plains ? Ay, fearless faced the foe. 
With Peter Vander Were, brave burgo- 
master, 
Who stoutly said, "Take now my sword and 

THRUST 

Me through : divide my flesh among you, 

BUT, — 

Surrender ? I will not, so help me, God ! " 
And o'er the troubled city, like a paU, 
Hung dark, portentous clouds of gathered gloom. 
While through her anxious streets fell famine 

stalked 
A gaunt and ghostly thing ! 

O fair Dutch land, 
How oft have thy broad, fertile fields wept tears 
Of blood ! How oft has grim and grizzly death. 
Up-mounted on his gory car, rolled swift 
Across thy plains a juggernaut of war, 
While from her reeking cavern, dark and dank, 
Dread famine with lean eyes glared fiercely round ! 



THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 57 

Safe in men's hearts, dear Ehineland, dear to 

God, 
Forever dwell. No image of the past, 
No vision of the days which yet shall be, 
No deeds which bards have sung, or yet may sing. 
Can dim the lustre of the martial toils 
That saved sweet liberty ! 



Put off your shoes, — 
The bush is all ablaze ! Doubt you, that God 
Was HELMSMAN of the wind-tossed barque, which 

brought 
Them o'er the deep ? You doubt, He chose the 

land, — 
And from a Horeb bush proclaimed, " I'm God ! 
Fear not, train here My Church, and when 

I CALL, 

Obey " ? 

I, pondering the path their feet 
Once trod, as if caught up into the heights, 
Called to the Ghosts, (my hero-ghosts), rising 
As from a pinnacle, I clapped my hands. 
Exclaiming, in an ecstasy of joy, 
" Pilgrims, bravo, — well done ! " 



58 THE PILGRIMS 

But will the Pilgrim story end, — 
Find somewhere respite from the toil 

Of endless dissertation ? Friend, 
The rubble work beneath the soil, 

Is it not somewhat in the plan 
Of Art's emprise, the column's base, 

Needful, indeed, if ever man 
Shall build St. Peter's fit to face 

The scrutinizing gaze of eyes 
Gifted to see into the soul 

Of things ? 

Ay, let the column rise 
Ornate and beautiful, the whole 

Eesponsive to the tenderest touch, 
Nay, upward let it move apace. 

As if imbued with life, — yet such 
Were still fantastic, if nor space 

Nor time be given to lay wide 
The graceless concrete ! 

Will it end. 
The story ? End ? Just as the tide 

Rises from low to high to send 
The bruit authentic of the sea 

Landward, rumour the unseen things, 
Which dwell in darkling deeps, till lea 



THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 59 

And sheltered shoal ripple in rings 
To match the changing winds, so too, 

Shall rise at times the frenzy, free 
As untamed tides, to trace anew 

Fair lines of grace and symmetry, — 
So cope the rubble, making great 

Our Pilgrim story ! 

All intent 
On this I labour long and late, — 
And find my soul's replenishment. 



BOOK III 

The Pilgrims' Olympus 



The Theme,— The Pilgrim Church at Ley den 
numbered about three hundred souls, — a Gideon's 
Baud. Through the influence of the Calvinistic doc- 
trines the Pilgrims renounced the Church of England, 
and in the strength of this creed continued loyal to 
the Eeformed party at Leyden. Calvin, in their 
minds, was the greatest of the Eeformers, — a veritable 
Jupiter of Europe. His doctrine of Predestination 
was a menace to all theories of the divine right of 
kings, and, by consequence, his teachings were ex- 
ceedingly obnoxious to the ruling classes. The 
emphasis Calvin gave to the Sovereignty of God and 
the Parity of men made his creed a large political 
factor in Europe. This Canto suggests a number of 
considerations, such as, that Eunnymede was a 
flickering taper ^ Calvin's creed, a blazing orb, — 
God's seemingly devious ways, — man's limited free- 
dom, — God's WILL largely everybody's will. A. pagan 
song is introduced to relieve the monotony of a long 
argument. Then the gracious stars see two Pilgrims 
of a far later period, —Abraham Lincoln, and John 
Brown. John Brown of Ossawatomie! God's 
Bluchers at the Leyden gates. The Epilogue, — 
" Now all seemed saner." 



I 



The Pilgrims' Olympus 

Fear not, O Pilgrim, 

for truth is thy buckler ; 
Gird up thy loins, 

the battle's to fight ; 
Devil-sired creeds 

in array for the conflict ; 
Marshalled 'gainst thee 

are the minions of night. 

Stand in the battle-shock, — 

justice thy hauberk ; 
Truth's greaves and battle-ax, — 

panoplied be ; 
Fear not the face of man, 

though he be thrice a king ; 
What matters king-craft, 

or hell's rage to thee ? 

Fear not, O Pilgrim, 

a light from Olympus 
Pierces earth's gloom, — 

night's shadows will flee ; 
Jupiter Toi^ans 

defiance has thundered ; 
Kises the star 

of the valiant and free ! 
63 



64 THE PILGRIMS 

Three hundred souls, — 
A Gideon's band, God's Chosen, God's elect ! 
And in the word, " elect," behold the key, 
The problem's glimmering light, the sermon's 

text, — 
The answer to men's doubts ! 



One hope, one faring, fadeless ray. 
Sends streamers up the Eastern sky,— 

'T is Destiny shall blaze the way 
The Pilgrim feet must travel ! 



Ay, 

O'er rough and smooth, in light, in shade, 
"Where storm-clouds break along the lea, 

Or where the land from glen and glade 
Dips down upon the shining sea, — 

There, hark ! The heralds of the race 
Highborn and of enduring blood. 

Elect and foreordained to trace 
A dawning era, great and good ! 

The HERALDS ? Nay, the race as well. 
Foredoomed and to some greatness born. 

When Doubt and Darkness wane to swell 
Reveille to the coming morn, 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 65 

For as a bird with wings scarce tried 
Will find its way through dark and dim, 

While to its breast is safely tied 
Some weighty message, — ah, in Him 

Who guides the bird shall they not trust ? 
Ho, Pilgrims doomed to paths which lead 

To fame's abode, yet free from lust 
Of Fame, God grants to you this meed ! 

The Jupiter 
Of Europe thundered forth the earthquake word, — 
Predestination ! Clouds and troubled skies, 
Which long obscured the light, as with the dead 
Inertia of the years of thickest gloom. 
Now felt the shock, were hurtled as by noise 
Of falling skies, and in the rifts men saw 
A FORM loom large and menacing the might 
Of kings, (a crownless King), and born to rule 
The world,— it was John Calvin ! Stern he stood 
As on Genevan heights he spoke the dread, 
Portentous word, which made all Europe quake 
And tremble, and her kings to stand knock-kneed, 
And blanched, as if at sight of coming doom ! 
Predestination ! How the clouds hung low, 
And dark, with God's swift recompensing wrath ! 
Afar o'er kingdoms, long enthralled by those, 
Who through reputed rights divine had swayed 



66 THE PILGRIMS 

The Scepter of Misrule, the rolling, rude, 
And dee})- voiced thunder heralded the word, 
Predestination ! 



Wide o'er lands, long prone 
Beneath oppression, hope's pulse strongly beat 
In erst despairing hearts. With prophets' eyes 
Men saw a star ascend the arching skies, — 
A star of hope ! A Child was born whose hand 
Would sAvay the scepter of the world, — a Christ 
Predestinate, Messias of a creed 
Would aspen-shake the kingliest thrones, and teach 
The world the Brotherhood and Parity 
Of men ! 

" Arch heresy ! " went forth the cry ; 
" A parlous poison-seed," 't was said, " and sure 
To germinate and grow a Upas quick 
To bear the breadfruit of sedition and 
Contempt of kingly ways ! " 

Forth went the cry ; 
But with the cry went forth God's sword of 

TRUTH, 

(Though buffeted His messengers), and far 
As Frith of Forth in Scotland, long the fief 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 67 

Of faithless Princes of the Stuart line, 
Men saw the rising star, and in its light 
Were strong ! 



Predestination ! How the word 
Brought consternation to the Camp of Kings ! 
Predestination ! There appeared a man,— 
A SCION, say, of Calvin's rock-ribbed creed, 
And raised his voice for liberty. He faced 
Queen-fury and prelatic zeal, and bared 
His strong right arm to save the truth once 

learned 
At Calvin's feet. Prelates grew faint with 

fear. 
As from St. Giles there came the battle-cry 
Of civil and religious liberty ! 
This was the man, John Knox, whose will gave 

law 
To Kings and Princes, and in trumpet tones 
Proclaimed anew the sovereignty of God 
And man's equality ! 



A little cloud was fashioned 

In a summer hour 
By the love impassioned 

Of the sun and shower ; 



68 THE PILGRIMS 

All day it basked in sunlight 

On the heaven's warm blue : 
Round lilies in the dun light 



Once when Dawn was leading 

In the hot young Day 
This fleecy cloudlet speeding 

Through the ether gray 
Seemed to float and sail 

On the bright sky's bosom, 
Like a dewdrop pale 

On a bluebell blossom. 

So close under heaven 

Did it glide and fleet, 
That I thought it riven 

By an angel's feet ; 
Then the breezes parted 

Its thinly veiling screen, 
And blue glimpses darted 

Into sight between. 

Let William, Prince 
Of Orange, step upon the Stage ! Let eyes 
As erst behold once more the deepening blush 
Of horror, ill-concealed, as from the lips 
Of Henry, King of France, he hears the pact 
With Philip, knave, to extirpate all such 
As dared refuse the papal faith, — see how 
We praise him for his nobleness ! 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 69 

Did the gauzy fabric 

Redden in tiie breeze, 
Like the dainty rubric 

On the temple frieze ? 
Oh, the sun shone through it, 

Rainbow-tints agleam, 
Till my heart that knew it 

Worshipped every beam ! 

As I gazed came breathings 

On a zephyr's wings 
Like wild, windy wreathings 

Round £eolian strings ; 
'T was a lark far hidden 

In the little cloud. 
Singing songs unbidden. 

Full and free and loud. 

Oh, it came down streaming 

The clear air along. 
Like rills roused from dreaming, 

Like a shower of song ; 
It made me glad and bright. 

Brighter every minute. 
Till I blessed the cloudlet white 

And the spirit in it. 



Appears 

Ui3on the Stage the silent prince, appalled 
To silence, not by craven fear, ah, no ! 
But by atrociousness of crimes proposed, — 



70 THE PILGRIMS 

Brave Statholder and Prince of royal blood ! 
Great hero-ghost, hear now men's praise ! Thy 

name 
Dies not upon the winds, but year by year 
Goes gathering increase, — hear earth's salvos ! 

Hark ! 
What voice is this upon the circling air ? 
'T is fame's ! To thee, O princely ghost, she 

cries, 
" All hail ! " She opens wide the Temple Doors, 
And with a beckoning, outstretched hand exclaims, 
" Come hither, son, thy throne is here ! " 

Like a trailing comet 

Passing through the skies 
"With the sunbeams on it. 

Ere the daylight dies. 
Moved the apparition. 

Ghostlike, far, serene ; 
Art had its fruition 

In the sky-demesne. 

Li the dome it fluttered 

Like dim, waving lights, 
Timing songs were uttered 

By the lark at heights 
In the empyrean ; — 

Angels only hear 
The bird's unequalled paean. 

Oh, that it were near ! 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 71 

Lightly on my spirit 

Weighed the sky-land scene, 
Cloud, and lark within it, 

And the crystal sheen 
Of rainbow tints supernal, — 

Violet to red ! 
" Beauty is eternal " — 

This was all I said. 

Soon the song grew fainter 

And the cloudlet passed 
Like pictures of the painter, 

When his soul at last 
Wearies of the vision, 

Vanishes his dream 
Of fairy scenes elysian, — 

That which might have been ! 

So grew 
The Calvin-light ! The flickering taper lit 
At EuNNYMEDE, and quickly fading as 
The darkness deepened, suffered its eclipse. 
As when the rising sun, great blazing orb. 
Effaces Moon and Stars. Appeared great men, 
Pyra, Hampden, Cromwell, like the fabled teeth 
O' the Dragon, when the fructifying light 
Transformed them into mailed and armed Knights, 
And drew the gauntlets on in truth's defense, 
Nor ere forebore, till Charles the First was sent 
The headsman's way I 



72 THE PILGRIMS 

Did my soul feel joyance, 

When the misty height 
Banished all annoyance 

By the rare delight 
Cloud and lark had given, — 

Kaptured me of care ? 
In the vault of heaven, 

Art had triumphed there. 



Then the sun's noon splendour 

Filled the cloud with light 
Of a soft and tender, 

Yet intensest white ; 
And the wanderer weary 

Joyed that it was made, — 
It gave to him a cheery, 

And a grateful shade. 

Did the semblance of a shadow 

On the wide sky pass ? 
It dusked the quiet meadow 

And the glistening grass ; 
It dimmed the forest fountain 

And the clover lea ; 
It deepened on the mountain, 

Darkened on the sea. 

Still though earth was shaded 
And a gloom was there, 

Never dulled or faded 
Was the cloudlet fair ; 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 73 

For it ever sailed 

Up so close to heaven, 
That nothing could have failed 

Of the beauty given. 

Now a lustre glowing 

In the silent West 
From the sun was flowing 

As it turned to rest ; 
And the cloud borne sunward, 

Ever nearer, nigher, 
Ever floated onward 

Toward the sunset fire. 

All its being belted 

With a glory bright, 
While into heaven it melted 

In a dream of light ; 
Never more glance crossed it 

In the sky-land far ; 
But where I had lost it 

Shone the Evening Star. 

The cloudlet passed, and io, 
Young Hesper with his starry flock was seen 
Above the marge, and all the arching dome 
Was studded with bright gems ! 

Intent on this 
Far sky-land scene, with echoes in my soul 
Of harmony like that when all the stars 
Sang sweetly and Creation's dawn sent forth 



74 THE PILGRIMS 

The primal light and Chaos fled, I felt 
Once more within my heart a stately tread, 
(The footfalls of a regnant Faith), — Truth's march 
From ScROOBY ! I resumed the song of how 
Truth-seekers left their native land in quest 

Of LIBERTY ! 

Teach me, O Pilgrims, ■when the night winds rave, 
And the goblin forces range and rally, 
That the Orb of Day will ere long rise 
And disperse the mob with a martial sally. 

Teach me, O Pilgrims, that the heart is strong. 
When truth abides in the life as fully 
As the sun in the sky of a cloudless June, — 
That a life for God will never sully 

The passing years and the deeds which dare 
To envisage the storms that sometimes lower, 
Nor stifle the soul by virtue led 
In its upward look to place and power. 

Teach me, O Pilgrims, that strength is meet 
For a life that will live in the light and glory 
Of a day that shall sever the chains which thrall 
The spirit of freedom hale and hoary. 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 75 

For behold, ere the night, a test will come 
To try men's faith, whether fast or failing, 
And the Creed rock-ribbed as the mountain's base 
Will prove its truth and strength availing. 

God moves in devious ways, 
And dark ? So free men seem, so fettered, and 
So frail, — God's Princes, ay, and puppets, as 
Befits His sovereign will ! That drooping day, 
A puppet, — this glad, shining day, as like, 
A Prince, while no day sure He will not make 
A contrary choice ! So stood on Humber's banks 
God's pilgrim-puppets, poor, despised and weak, 
Yet free to raise a puny arm and frail 
Against a tyrant-wrong ; so likewise one 
Day stand they Princes at the friendly gates 
Of Leyden, safe ! Yet in their deepest hearts 
They feel fast-fettered to God's chariot wheels. 
Shall say, Man's free ? Say it, and, — good ! Shall 

say- 
Man is not free ? Just so, and likewise, good. 
Man's can and will, at changing views, nor can 
Nor will, till in confusion sore of truth's 
Quick-changing ways we wondering wait what God 
Will do ! Ah, me ! I see the deeper truth. 
E'en I who tell the Pilgrim tale, and feel 
My frailty in each halting line, dare speak 



76 THE PILGRIMS 

It out : There is no can, no will, save can 
And WILL, which in us is our can, our will, — 
The everybody's can and will ! You doubt ? 
To doubt is to be — lost ! 

A pagan song, 
Perchance, may here relieve the long-taut strain : 

I sing of fair Persephone, 

Demeter's daughter, — hear my song ! 
I sing the sacred mystery. 

The Eleusinian rites, so long 
The comfort and the hope of men ! 

I sing of raptured Proserpine, 
And Ceres' aching sorrow, when 

The flowering dafi'odils incline 
The fairest of the fair to leave 

The ocean nymphs and step aside. 
Perchance to feast her heart and cleave 

The six-lobed perianths, while wide 
Beneath her feet yawns Hades flamed 

Of deathless passion to embrace 
The fair-faced maiden ! 

E'en the famed 
And fairest of the God-like race 

I sing, — Demeter's joy ! She moved 
A Princess of all princesses, 

Pure as the lily-white, and loved, 
When lo, bright-golden crocuses, 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 77 

Narcissus and the scented rue 

Beguiled her as in artless moods 
To leave the beaten path. Anew 

I sing the song that beats or broods 
Upon the cords reverberant 

Of lyric lore, the mythic meed 
Of art. Olympic love I chant, 

And strike the lyre, as erst, to feed 
The hearts of mortals,— hear my song ! 

Why lef test thou thy mother, maid, 
Disconsolate ? With what glad throng 

In search of daffodils, and strayed 
So far afield to while the hour 

In flowery dales embowered for thee ! 
Didst feel Death's hand and mighty power 

O'ershadow thee, Persephone, 
Persephone ? Thy mother's voice, 

Lilie wailing winds, now calls to thee, 
" Persephone " ! Thou hast no choice. 

Since rapt from Enna's vale ! The free 
Winds waft, nine days, Demeter's wail, 

While from their cave in sympathy 
The Echoes tell the waning tale, 

" Persephone, Persephone " ! 

Ah, maid, thou wast divinely fair, — 
Didst ravish Death ! The lordly host 

Of many guests burst on the air, — 

Surprised thee dreaming near the coast 



78 THE PILGRIMS 

Of the Ionian Sea, and bore 

Thee in his golden chariot down. 
Unwilling to the Stygian shore. 

Pomegranate mead will it not drown 
Thy senses ? Speak, thou Queen of Death, 

Carest thou not for earth or sky ? 
The Son of Cronus comforteth 

He not thy heart ? Thine anguished cry 
Demeter hears, but cannot see 

Thee ranging in the dark abyss, 
Yet answers thee, " Persephone ! 

Persephone ! " 

The dark-browed Dis, 
Recks he thine aching misery ? 

Ah, beauteous maid, thy prayer is vain, — 
Thou wast ordained his bride to be, 

Though Hymen's bands give lasting pain ! 
Thy mother, her ambrosial hair 

Down fallen to her waist, hears naught 
But her own words upon the air 

The Echoes in their caves have caught 
From lips divine, " Persephone, 

Persephone ! " 

Ah, willsome maid, 
"Why from the path didst stray to see 

Narcissus ? Else had Death not laid 
His icy hand on thee and filled 

Thy mother's heart with endless pain ? 
The secret learn, — 't w^as Zeus that willed 

Thee for a bride, his brother's gain ! 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 79 

Aurora, when she wakes the day, 

Seeks thee among the dewy meads, — 
Alas, her quest is vain ! Thy way 

Is hid from Hesper, when he leads 
His flock of stars into the skies 

To feed them with the Sun's dim light ; 
Yet there he hears Demeter's cries. 

What rules the day, and what the night 
Can hear the wail unceasingly 

" Persephone ! " while timidly 
The Echoes plead, " Persephone, 

Persephone, Persephone " ! 

O fair-tressed daughter of the gods, 

Thy mother's plaintive voice is vain, 
Till ONE upon Olympus nods 

His lordly plumes ! Ah, then again 
The broad- wayed earth shall open wide 

Upon the Nysian plains, while he. 
The many-named of Cronus, pride 

And regal power laid low, shall see 
The raptured once again repose 

Upon her mother's breast ; and o'er 
The joy-reft fields shall bloom the rose 

And daffodil to fade no more. 

Back to the tale : 

John Calvin, in his strength. 
Seemed Jupiter to tribes in thrall, and when 
The Titan spoke, 't was as the voice of God ! 



8o THE PILGRIMS 

Men trembled, but believed. Kings saw their doom 
Writ large on lowering skies, which once had 

frowned 
On feeble folk, — the midnight hours had waned. 
And LIGHT illumined all the land ! 

It was 
Genevan thunderbolts, hurled with a skill 
Supreme and Titan-strength, which rent the clouds, 
And made great rifts, where only darkness erst 
Had ruled ! Far flashed Geneva's beaconing light, — 
The sovereignty of God, the parity 
Of men ! John Kobinson, and kindred souls 
At ScROOBY, saw the light, and, like a bird 
The fowler's pipe, they followed that great light. 
Pressed on to Leyden's gates, — stood Princes, 

who, 
Once puppets, poor, despised and weak, had fled 
For liberty ! 

Shall say, Man's free ? Just so. 
And good. Shall say, Man is not free ? Oh, yes. 
And also good. At changing points he's free. 
Or fettered fast to God's great chariot wheels ! 
Ah, me ! The truth comes strangely fraught with 

truth's 
Quick-changing ways, — so free men seem, yet weak, 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 8i 

So past all power to raise a pithless straw 

Against the tides of God's onrushing sea, 

"Whichj in its wide engulfing waves, enfolds 

The destiny of men ! The destiny 

Of men ? How else construe the Pilgrim tale ? 

How else conceive the universal frame 

Of earth and sky, the moments in the march 

Of mind from age to age, World-^ons past 

Evolving ^ons of the worlds to be, 

The insect meet to live its day and die. 

And man ? Are all not parts of one great plan 

God-centered and sustained ? If not, then all's 

Inane and lifeless at the core, and God's 

A name, — an empty symbol of the sad 

Heart's deepest need ! 

I tell the tale of how 
Brave men triumphant in the face of fear 
Said, No ! to king and prelate, left their homes, 
With all the tender ties which birth and love, 
And youth's dear hopes, had twined about the 

heart, 
How come to Leyden's gates, they grasp the 

hands 
Of men, who too had felt oppression's heel, 
Stand Princes, who, once puppets, poor, despised 
And weak, gave all for liberty ! And this 



82 THE PILGRIMS 

Was Leyden, long asylum for Exiles 
From every land. 



O Leyden, loved of God, 
How would we say the fitting word ! How 

would 
We write on during brass the joy with which 
The Pilgrims hailed thy welcome gates ! How 

tell 
In measured lines the pulse-throbs of thy heart 
Of tenderness, the royal largess thou 
Didst give to weary, wayworn travellers, — 
The human-hearted kindness of thy heart's 
Unmeasured meed ! A fadeless garland, rich 
In all sweet kindliness was Leyden's gift, — 
A covert, when the storm had lowered dark, 
And Herod and his hangdog crew Avould seek 
The young Child's life ! These were poor pup- 
pets, long 
Distraught with anxious care, when lo, one day. 
They stand at Leyden's gates God's Princes, 

and 
The Child was saved ! Just so, — the Child was 

saved, 
A virile creed, a faith predestinate 
To sway the scepter of the world ! 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 83 

These were 
God-fearing exiles, thrice three years and two, 
In refuge from the wa-ath of catchpoll-priests, 
(A British breed of freedom-loving men). 
Anon to hear God's voice in Leyden, " Out 
Of Egypt have I called My Son ! " 

Bring crowns ! 
For held they not the truth a higher boon 
Than life, and left their native land, with ties 
Of hearth and home, to save sweet liberty ? 
Bring mitre and tiara, triple crown. 
The fadeless fillet, (cap of sovereignty). 
The votive incense, which bespeaks the choice 
Of men greater than earthly kings to high 
And holy services ; and bring, withal. 
Green oaken wreathes and iron crowns, for they 
Were strong ! They were unblanched by fear of 

man, — 
They stood for God, let come the worst, had armed 
Themselves with all the armour of God's "Word : 
Had girt their loins with truth, had crowned their 

heads 
With helmets of His saving grace ; had shod 
Their feet with the swift tidings of His peace. 
With breastplates of the righteousness of God, 
With shields of faith and flaming swords of His 



84 THE PILGRIMS 

Eternal truth they dared resist King James, 
His venal Church, with prelates, bishops, priests, 
And hangdog crew ! 

So much, (ay, this much), said, and still 
The story runs, — a snail's pace this ! 

Who guides the homing bird, and AviU 
Despite the boundless spaces miss 

Not once the untried, trackless way 
The bird shall wing its message, He 

Will surely plume and guide me. Nay, 
I, Daniel-hke, grow wise and see 

A VISION ! Not what yet shaU be, 
(But has been), — see it, you, who will ! 

I eat no pleasant bread, on me 
The chrism, ointing oil, to fill 

My soul with unction, — when, behold 
The Man ! His body, beryl, — face 

Of lightning, eyes of fire, fold 
On fold of polished brass greaves grace 

Both feet and ankles, and His voice 
Like multitudes in converse ! 

See, 
Just here, Geneva ! I rejoice, — 
A kingly Peesence ! Who is He? 
I stand subdued, (my sense of worth 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 85 

Abates), for see His majesty ! 

Yea, all my good bemoans its dearth. 
But hark, a voice, as from the sea ! 

My strength fails and I tremble. Deep 
Sleep falls upon me, (so it reads 

The Daniel story), " Ever keep 
The faith, O Daniel, and the seeds 

From My Geneva will grow fruit 
For all the ages ! Fear not then. 

Be strong, and eat you of this fruit. 
Till strength be as the strength of ten ! " 

The gracious stars looked down 
On ScROOBY, and they saw a band of men, — 
Victims of tyranny and priestly craft ; 
And the stars smiled, for here were those who 

would 
Make their day great and glorious ! Again 
The stars looked down, — the mist-like aureole 
Encircled many a brow, and faces yet 
Unborn peered through the haze, mystic and full 
Of meaning, as of a faithful progeny 
Far future, — sons and daughters who would lead 
The march of right 'gainst wrong. A Pilgrim, 

not 
Of their loins, raised his sceptered hand, and lo. 
The shackles fell from the black millions, though 



86 THE PILGRIMS 

He sank beneath man's curse ! Another face, 
Distinct in its Pilgrim lineaments, seer-like, 
With cast of infinite pity for men crushed 
Under the yoke, glowed white in its passion's 

heat, — 
A MAN, his blood the Mayflower blood, his arm 
Bared to uplift the victims of the world's 
Open sore, his vision prophetic as 
Isaiah's dreams ! In the lambent purity 
Of their approving light the stars could read, 
In filmy tracings, charactered and clear, 
His name, as one who paid with his own life 
The price of love for a dusky race, while the 

muse, 
(Ignored by the great poets), reared a shaft ; 
On it were rhythmless lines, grating and harsh, 
Yet strangely true : 

I rear this shaft to John Brown ! 

Bravest in war's alarums, 

Reckless of aught that harms 

The body, while the soul stands pure and strong ! 

He was a chosen saint of God, 

Saintliest saint that ever trod 

The earth, (I dare aifirm) ; 

Into the golden urn 

Of deeds that long shall fitly claim 

The sacred right to speak his name 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 87 

Gather the fragments of his fame, — 
Ay, treasure his faith and fame. 
And honour a spotless name ! 

On the 'scutcheon of a nation's fadeless glory 

Write large the outlines of his matchless story. 

Let not a tit or tithe be lost 

Of all the sacrificial cost 

Of deeds and daring ! Nay, let all 

AVliose souls revere an honoured name 

Speak forth his praise, and with acclaim, 

Herald it o'er land and sea, 

That in our sanest moments we 

Dare say, he was a man of God, 

Saintliest saint that ever trod 

The earth, — predestinate to lay 

Arresting hands on error ! 

Say, 
He was the great Elijah of his times. 
Who slew the Baal prophets for their crimes 
Against the Christ and human right ; 
And in the thickest of the fight 
Stood strong for God ! Had he not heard, 
As 't were a God-inspired Word, 
In his own heart, the cry, 
(The sad, unceasing sigh). 
As dark oppression bore 
On hearts that o'er and o'er 
Had raised the agonizing prayer. 
That God would hear their cry, and bare 



88 THE PILGRIMS 

His strong right arm to save them, — 
From slavery's yoke redeem them ? 

John Brown of Ossawatomie, — 

Martyr to human liberty I 

The Elijah of his times, 

Fit theme for noble rhymes, 

Dared strike a fearless blow, 

That brought high error low ; 

He stood for God and human right, 

And in the thickest of the fight 

Pressed foremost to avenge the wrong 

Done to a race for ages long 

In thralldom ! 

Cursed the cult or creed 
That dares condemn the righteous deed 
At Pottawatomie ! 
Let the Agags tremble in the fiery noon of 

wrath ! 
Let the stern avenger follow in the Prophet's 

path 
At Pottawatomie ! 
And let God's Israel know ; 
Ay, let God's Israel show. 
That fealty to the right stands strong ; 
That God avenges every wrong 
Against the weak ! 
Let conscience speak. 

Approving all his great heart's vengeful throbs, 
For oft he thouo^ht of men in shackles bound. 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 89 

The stinging lash and treadmill grind, as round 

On round, the dusky tribe with stifled sobs 

Mourned the law's delay, 

Prayed, that Freedom's Day 

Would yet restore them to their manhood's right 

and dower. 
And in a glad, predestined far-off day or hour 
Assuage their grief ! 
Ah, past belief 
The hell-begotten greed, 
That in the world's long-open sore 
Enriched men's coffers more and more, 
And by a ghastly deed 
Enthroned a monstrous creed ! 



John Brown of Ossawatomie ! 

Lover of God and liberty ! 

Hater of laws that crush the prone and weak ; 

Breaker of laws that bind the yoke and seek 

To build for rich men thrones 

On carcasses and skulls, 

And feed the useless drones 

Whose sterile life but dulls 

The finer sense ! 

! 

Ay, cursed the creed 
That dares condemn the righteous deed 
At Pottawatomie ! 

Let the Agags tremble, when the Prophet'i 
wrath is stirred ; 



90 THE PILGRIMS 

Let a stern Elijah blanch and balk the Baal 

herd 
At Pottawatomie ! 
That was a righteous deed 
To suit a nation's need. 

Arise, avengers, rise and lay 

Arresting hands on wrong, and say, 

" Let God arise ! " 

All-seeing eyes 

Behold laws infamous and vile. 

Arise ! Kesist their sway, and while 

One drop of hero-blood flows in your veins, 

Ascend Mount Carmel heights, resist the 

claims 
Of error to enforce a law 
The Ahabs and the Jezebels would frame 
To feed or cram the prey-bird's maw, — 
So slay men ! Let some Master Spirit rise. 
Some Hero-Prophet, born to glorious fame. 
And lead Elijah-like the bold emprise, — 
And strike a blow, as erst 
At Pottawatomie ! 
Ay, strike, let come the worst, 
And Pottawatomie ! 
And in a blood-red fury topple down, — 
In burning wrath and ruin topple down. 
The mighty torture-towers of greed, 
And in the well-tuned, righteous deed 
Deserve men's praise ! 
The shaft now raise ! 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 91 

Come, gather the dust and ashes of his deeds, 
And urn them for our nation's future needs ; 
Say to the generations rising to their noon, 
And to the puppet-cowards marching to their 

doom, 
Behold a man that dared to stand for truth. 
Who from the foothills of his early youth 
Trudged slowly up the mountain peaks to power, 
And in the fullness of God's wrathful hour 
Sent sore amaze and trembling to the coward- 
hearts 
Of men who manacled a race, and in the marts 
Made merchandise of flesh ! 



Thou, in the tangling mesh 

Of laws unjust and vile. 

Wait God's swift wrath the while ! 



Then back to Calvin went 
My heart in glad pulsations of acclaim. 
For who but Gallia's Son had blazed the way 
Through the world's wilderness to liberty. 
And light ? Why then not sing a song of him, — 
The crownless King ? 

O Herald of the dawn, Calvin ! 
Afar over the desolate w^aste 
Of error and the maze of sin, 



92 THE PILGRIMS 

Beneficent and strong, yet chaste 

As pearled-dew on Dian's lips, 

WoKLD-SHAKEK, thy faith shone ! 

Amaze 

To Kings and Prelates ! For the ships 
That carried a Scrooby band, ablaze 

With conquering light, carried a creed 
To topple down the kingliest thrones ! 

Great Almoner of truth's rich meed, 
Contemner of all kingly drones. 

To thee a paean ! Let earth's choirs 
Now fret the skies for thee, and long 

As Art endures, and tuneful lyres, 
Fill the wide air with grateful song ! 

Behold the sun at break of day 
Kise red above the eastern hills, 

And shadows thief-like steal away, 
As fearing long predestined ills, — 

He rose, the herald of the dawn 
Of TRUTH, — great Calvin rose, and smiled,- 

Lo, Satan and his reptile spawn 
Of Prelates sought the waste and wild ! 

And lo, as if God had 
In me planted a seed, w^hich by and by 
Would grow and make me kin to heroes, I 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 93 

Had thereupon such fellowship with these 

Dear ghosts, (gone ages to their harvesting), 

That ere thought could restrain, I called to them 

Across the flood, that is, my heart exclaimed, 

" Bravo, and fare ye well, inheritoks 

Of glory ! Hear me, heroes, from your high 

Abodes of light ! With all my heart I greet 

You, hail, thi'ice hail ! And lest my voice should die 

Upon the air, nor reach those shinmg orbs, 

I call whatever Angels minister 

To saints to bear my messages of love ! 

And if our guardian Angels fail to hold 

Sweet intercourse, as led in diverse ways, 

Then God, who knows my heart, shall evermore 

Remind you of my fealty ! " 

Here two scenes 
Upon my heart's four walls beguile me, — one 
Is wearied Pilgrims, bent on duty's call, 
A])proaching Leyden's circling moat with cahn 
And reverend mien, and to myself breathless 
I say, " Will the gates ope, or no ? " 

And one, — 
A funeral pageant, dark with plume and pall, — 
A much -loved, princely form, borne in the arms 
Of Death, (Grief sable-stoled), and miles on miles 



94 THE PILGRIMS 

Of mourners slowly moving to the Crypt 

Of Ley den's loved St. Peter's, where with dust 

And ashes should repose the mortal parts 

Of gentle, wise, sweet-tempered, tolerant 

Arminius ! 

And Leyden is in grief 
And mourning, for a Prince has died ! Not such 
As shapes a state's decrees, but one who rules 
In the realms of mind. This is the man who raised 
His voice against the sterner view, and dared 

Deny, that men are reprobated, doomed, — 
Predestinated, damned to penal pains ! 

He held, that man without condition is 

Not foreordained to life, nor doomed to death, — 
Ay, rather, God is Father to the race, 
All-Father to all tribes, if man will take 
What God, in Christ, so freely gives, yea take 
It as a boon through Christ, and, — if^ hy faith, 
He hold it fast unto the end ! 

It was 
October, and the leaves, with autumn hues 
Of varied rainbow-tints, feU noiselessly, 
While in the City Sorrow, with her Sighs, 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 95 

"Was brooding, nor had surcease found, for one, 
"Who in the hale, high noon of life, so long 
Leyden's great Leader in the march of mind, 
Lay mute and pulseless in the arms of Death. 
Akminius was dead ! And sobs and sighs 
Were heard on every hand, the city palled 
In gloom, the funeral pageant moving slow, 
While strangely weird, as if on wailing winds, 
The silver fir-tree told its mournful tale, — 
" The Cedak is no more ! " 

'T was thus declined 
The MILDER FAITH at Leyden, for the voice 
That dared to speak the gentler ceeed was hushed ; 
Death sealed brave lips, the beating heart was stilled, 
While o'er the silent dust St. Peter's tolled 
A requiem : 

Kest, great heart ! No more stern duty calls 

thee; 
Kest, great heart ! The stress of strife is past ; 
Kest in peace ; God's loving arms enfold thee ; 
Rest, only rest ; the light has dawned at last. 

Rest, great heart ! The day of pain is ended ; 
Sleep the sleep of just men after toil ; 
Rest in peace ; with rest may peace be blended ; 
Rest, sweetly rest in freedom's blood-bought 
soil. 



96 THE PILGRliMS 

Kest, great heart! No more the wild pulsa- 
tions ; 

Wild, warring words shall vex thee not again ; 

Kest, great heart ! Safe now from earth's mu- 
tations ; 

Kest, sweetly rest ; no more the pang or j>ain. 

Though flags were furled, and peace, 
Brooded white-winged over the plains, which erst 
The greed of Spanish knaves despoiled, and farms 
Blossomed anew with promise, yet two creeds, — 
The Calvinistic and Arminian cults, 
The while waged war at Leyden ; and at times 
The issue was in doubt. This view, then that. 
Seemed winning near the goal. God's iron duke, 
Stern Gomar, bowed with anxious care, would fain 
Have "night, or help ! " — cried, " Save us from the 

wreck 
Of these degenerate times! Oh, may the faith 
Of Calvin make us strong to stand for truth ! " 
Cried, " Save us from the foes of civil and 
Religious liberty ! " 

Heaven was all 
Intent, for when the sky was at its depth 
Of dark, God heard the cry, stern Gomar's CRY, 
And sent His Pilgrim-Bluchers in hot haste, 
And the da^, else lost, was saved | 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 97 

John Robinson, 
And men, who counted Truth a higher boon 
Than life, with Bradford, Brewster, Carver, ail 
Had felt the travail pains of freedom, found 
A truth that gold can never buy, — that God 

Is SOVEREIGN, MAN BORN HAPLESS, HOPELESS, 
PRONE, 

The VESSEL of God's grace, or wrath, — and all 
To suit His SOVEREIGN will! This made men 

reck 
As nothing, — old conventionalities, 
Which make this man a king, that man a slave, 
(His birthright's doom), and by time-honoured 

rules, 
A KING, a slave, to endless days ! 

Ah, me ! 

Who gave the right to lord it over men ? 

Not Calvin's creed, nor God's ! Earth's poten- 
tates, 

In the most sovereign sight, are but as chaff, 

When flails alternate beat, and staffs and s^viples, 
grasped 

In yeomen's hands, shuck out the grain, — a creed 

To make the harrowing Herods howl with rage ; 

For had not Cal^'IN thundered from the heights, 

(The Jupiter of Europe), at a time. 



98 THE PILGRIMS 

When Church and State, in venal compact, 

dared 
Usurp the rights of brave, God-fearing men, 
And bind a yoke too heavy to be borne ? 
This was great Calvit^, and the Pilgrims' Guide 
In truths, once darkly joined with truths divine, 
AVhen lo, they stand at Leyden's wide-swung 

gates, — 
God's Bluchers, and the day is saved ! 



Now all seemed saner when I saw 
The course predestinate, and how, 

As if obedient to a law, 
God's puppets once, but Princes now, 

Like migratory birds, replumed 
For distant flights, gave token, (mind 

The figure), that, the Spring relumed 
With light and largess, they would find 

A nesting place on foreign strands. 
The course seemed saner, for the light 

Which once had feebly sent its bands, 
Ray like, over dark wastes, till right 

Dared set its face 'gainst wrong, now broke 
Refulgent ! Prelates, Priests and Kings 

Had strange, mysterious dreams, and woke 
To pallor and to trembling ! 



THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 99 

Things 

Seemed to my senses fraught with strength 
And meaning, I had found the key, 

Subtle and sure to turn at length 
A searching light upon the free, 

Untrammelled truth, once darkly locked 
In thrall, that God would have His say. 

And, though by Herod-machinations 
balked 
In plans beneficent, would lay, 

Ere long, on error's mouth, the palm 
Of His reproving hand ! 

I saw 

Devils give way before the cahn. 
Fair face of truth, and the pale awe 

Of RIGHT in triumph over wrong. 
I knew, that somewhere, deep as life. 

And endless as the years of song 
The morning stars, in spaces rife 

With music, each to other sing. 
Was the predestined purpose, born 

Of counsels infinite, to light 

Puppets to THRONES of POWER ! the MORN 

Of TRUTH smiled from the lofty height ! 



loo THE PILGRIMS 

]j(ote : — In the foregoing canto the poem on The 
Cloud is in part a redaction of a few anonymous 
verses of imperfect form, with the addition of as 
many original stanzas. 



BOOK IV 
The Departure 



The Theme,— The doctrines of Calvin found their 
way into the minds and hearts of the common people, 
just as the risiug sun finally floods the landscape with 
light. The book opens with this figure. The Cov- 
enanters of Scotland inspired by the Calvinistic doc- 
trines framed and signed the Solemn League and 
Covenant. France by the rejection of her own son, 
Calvin, became a dying nation, yet his creed has be- 
come the Magna Charta for the world. The space of 
eleven years (thrice three years and two), spent at 
Leyden by the Pilgrims was as nothing compared 
with truth, — "spaceless, timeless all that is." A lilt 
of loneliness here gives time for the Pilgrim story to 
gird its loins. The English at Leyden might have 
intermarried with the Dutch. No doubt a virile 
progeny would have been the issue, but the loss to 
America would have been infinite. Here follows the 
' ' what might have been, ' ' — the wedding bells. God' s 
paths seem devious. The canto closes with the em- 
barking at the Delft, and the epilogue, — Into the 
Light now come. 



The Departure 

Thrice three years and two 

The Pilgrims lived at Leyden, 

Free to worship at the soul's behest ; 

Tlmce three years and two 

A new world longing waited 

Its natal day o'er the ocean's crest. 

Thrice tliree years and two 

The days with toil were freighted, — 

Freedom's sons in a foreign land ! 

Tlirice three years and two 

A faith undimmed, unshaken, — 

God's ELECT were the Pilgrim band ! 

Thrice three years and two 

God's angels kept them ever 

Safe and leal in His Egyptland ; 

Thrice three years and two 

He called again the Pilgrims 

To hie them swift to a barren strand. 

Thrice three years and two 
The fate of nations quavered, — 
Freedom's child, will it live, or die ? 
Thrice three years and two 
The HEIR to all the ages 
In stature grew as the days went by. 
103 



I04 THE PILGRIMS 

Thrice three years and two 
Fair fallowlands unbroken ! 
Freedom's seed seeks freedom's soil ; 
Thrice three years find two, 
(The days were years eleven), — 
Let freedom's sons for freedom toil ! 

Thrice three years and two 

The STAR of hope arises ; 

Breaks the light, — a longed-for day ! 

Thrice three years and two 

A tiny bark comprises 

World- Destiny for aye and aye ! 

Behold 

A sunrise in the Alps, — a figure this ! 
High up the mountains aU is tinged with pink 
And gold. The day's adawn, while fleecy clouds 
Move downlike in the sky, — the silent hour, 
Ere voice is heard of bird, or creeping thing. 
Descends the golden flame from topmost peak 
To towering pine ; the lofty trees are lit 
With crystal light, and every mist-clad shrub. 
Like polished coral, glows in rainbow tints 
Of varied hues. So swift the changing scene. 
That gorge, and deep ravine, and valley, long 
Enshrouded in the pall of night, rise limned. 
Yet ghostlike, in the gray and gold of morn ! 
Quickly the gold and gray fade in the sky, 



THE DEPARTURE 105 

And all the bounding landscape lies full fleeced 
In common light ! Here see the march of truth ! 
Great minds, seerlike, as dwelling in the light, 
Behold divinely purposed plans, (the peaks 
Suntipt), till creeps apace the widening sheen 
Down from these lofty herald-heights to bathe 
Wide areas of the common mind in tracts 
Below ! 



John Calvin stood upon the heights, 
His head sun-crowned and filleted with truth, 
(An am'eole-mist encircling his great brow), 
And looming large. Apollolike, beheld 
In skyey tracings, — mystical — the word. 
Predestination, (charactered in gold), — 
The doom of kingly claims, and from his high 
Olympus sent a light far over lands. 
And treacherous seas ! 



Have you trudged thro' the damp, dewy meadows 

in search of the kine, 
Ere the twilight has faded and out from the linden 

and lime 
Breaks a chorus of song-birds ? Nay, ere you rose 

from your bed 
You had heard them make vocal the morn. How 

the dew at your tread 



io6 THE PILGRIMS 

Settled softly, as down in the grass the meadow- 
lark hid 

All atremble ! E'en earthworms, apprised of their 
danger, slow slid 

Out of sight in the darkness and deep, just the fall 
of your feet 

Was the signal, — while pinkish and light purple 
streamers would meet 

In the limitless dome far above you, arching sky- 
vault and all 

With the promise of radiant glories would suddenly 
fall 

On the uplands and glades ! 

Oh, there's naught to compare with the glint 
Of the sunbeam's first peep o'er the hills, and the 

light-purple tint. 
Ere the gold and pale pink follow quickly, and lo, 

there he stands 
All majestic above the horizon, his broad golden 

bands 
Branching outwards, a palmleaf, the all-seeing sun ! 

E'en so 
The faint rays of truth break aglimmer, first glint, 

and then glow. 
You have seen it, my brother ; and often the prayer 

men will say, 
" Oh, anon let it break in effulgence and lighten 

the way 
To an era of infinite kindness and brotherly weal ! " 



THE DEPARTURE 107 

Do you wish it, my brother ? 'T will come, and 

your heart, it shall feel 
First the glint of truth's mist-clouded morning, then 

later will burst 
On your sight the great orb of God's love ! In my 

soul, if I durst 
I Avould barter the promise of heaven, if only 

to see 
The full round of that infinite splendour, so won- 
drous to me. 
As in fancy I walk in its noontide and feel the 

sweet thi'ill 
Of a far-away light, (the abatement of each human 

iU); 
As I catch now and then a faint glimmer let down 

from the skies 
Of its boundless, beneficent glory ! 

'T will come, and mine eyes 
Shall behold rise above the horizon a face like the 

sun, — 
Feet and hands with the nail-prints, the peerless, 

ineffable One ; 
Not Messias ensanguined, but kingship writ 

large on His brow, — 
The Kedresser of ^vrongs and oppressions ! Oh, 

hear now my vow, — 
I will wait as men wait for the morning, doubting 

not He will come ! 
Lo, a voice from the heights answers softly, " He 

will come, He will come ! " 



io8 THE PILGRIMS 

A long digression this, — 
To tell how God with inspiration touclied 
A Frenchman's heart ? How truth, full-orbed, 

burst Avide 
Ablaze o'er Europe ? How in Calvin's creed 
Were largesses of hope and blessing ? How 
Scotch Covenanters sought the mountam 

caves, 
And rocky fastnesses, to save the truth 
Once learned upon Geneva's heights, — ay, signed. 
In characters of blood, the Solemn League 
And Covenant to stand for truth, or die ? 
Brave men! And to this day their blood flows 

strong 
In many lands. Scotch Covenanters, bred 
On mountain, or on moor, or in the hum 
Of cities by the sea, came with the tides 
To Freedom's shores, and in this Western World 
Dared to confess the virile faith, and teach, 
From love of truth, the sovereignty of God, 
The parity of men ! 

O Gallia's son. 
Men crown thee greatest of the good and great ! 
For thine it was in these last days to snatch, 
Prometheuslike, from throne-usurping kings 
A princely boon for mortals. Thou didst raise 



THE DEPARTURE 109 

On high the torch light of sweet Liberty 
Enlightening the world ! Thy creed severe 
The nations yet shall love. 

But oh, for France ! 
Poor, foolish, long distraught, misguided France ! 
We lift the fruitless cry, " Hadst thou but known 
The things which make for peace ! " Didst thou 

not spurn 
The noble Calvin, and so rudely say, 
" Away with him, away with him " ? Behold 
Thy peace is gone, thy house is desolate ! 
Gladly would he have taught the children as 
He wandered through thy streets the way of life 
And peace, and, as a hen her tender brood. 
So safely sheltered them ! Behold, thy form 
Lies prostrate in the dust, while Ishmael-Jays 
Are wild with joy. See, on thy body prone 
The carrion-kites their grewsome feast begin ! 
The once Messias-Calvin cries from some 
Far Olivet, (his voice is full of tears), — 
" O Gallia, the boon was thine, hadst thou 
But known the things which make for peace. The 

blight 
Is thine, and thou shalt die ! Thy day has lost 
Its once meridian splendour, — see, the Sun 
Sinks in the West ! " A dying nation ! writes 



no THE PILGRIMS 

The armless hand upon the wall, which who 
That runs may read ! 

John Calvin, on the heights, 
Wrote Magna Charta for the world ! The sun 
Had tipt with golden beams the Cedar's head. 
The fir and branching elm were lit with light. 
As from the towering mountain's crest, and far 
As ScROOBY in the North men felt the quick 
Of hope, and though born puppets, poor and 

weak. 
Came Princes to the gates of Leyden, — so 
Knocked, entered and were saved ! 

O gliding YEARS, 

O THRICE THREE YEARS AND TWO, how fitly tell 

The destinies en wrapt in thee, thou poor. 

Frail midget in eternities that come, 

And go ! How shall we estimate the size 

And worth of heartbeats, fraught with pain for 

land 
And kindred, loved and lost? How^ shall we 

make 
It clear to lumbering, w^ork-day minds the truth 
Of truths, that tiime is naught ? How show, that 

deeds 
Lie deeper than the form, which gives the noio, 
And then, (})erspective temporal), while all 



THE DEPARTURE iii 

That IS, ay, truly is, abides timeless. 
And SPACELESS, e'en across the deep abysm 
Of being ? 

Spaceless, timeless all that is ? 
Receive, believe it, friend ! There is no time, 
Save such as seems. There is no temporal void 
In which a purpose may its counsel take 
Of deeds which men shall praise. Deeper than 

time, 
And forefront to eternities stands will, — 
God's will, and thine, and mine ! 

What boots it then, 
If cunning men shall say, eleven years 
Are but a handbreadth, far too small to breed 
A purpose big with destiny ? Nay, plans 
And purposes live not in years. God is, — 
They are ! Deeper than this there is no truth, — 
Though tIxME seems strangely true to such as earn 
A work-day wage ! 

A lilt of loneliness 
To some is better than the doubtful depths 
Of a Platonic dream. Temper the winds, 
Shall we, to lambs so closely shorn ? Here's then 
A rest, (a melancholy shade), the while 
Our Pilgrim story girds its loins : 



[2 THE PILGRIMS 

Bohemian sad, sweet singer, oft 
In childhood's hours with tender thrills my heart 
Responded to the measured melody 
Of Old Dog Tray. No dog seemed half so good, 
So gentle and so kind as Old Dog Tray. 
E'en now, as back o'er long-neglected years 
I hear the echo of a vanished joy, 
His name and fame a loving retrospect 
Compel. 

The past is peopled with the loved 
Of those sweet years, and forms so dear, now 

long 
Eeturned to dust, are reincarnated 
With youth and beauty, grace and loveliness ; 
The hearthstone's busied with the loving deeds 
Of mother, (dear, sweet mother), as the while 
With honest, dreamy face sits Old Dog Tray 
Upon his haunches, so sedate, so grave. 
And blinking to the sparkles, as they light 
The ingle with their fitful glow ! 

Old Dog, 
Ah, dear old dog ! My heart-strings strangely 

quick 
And quaver, as in reminiscent moods, 
I picture the dear Past ! Again Avith loved 
Ones on the village green I feel the joys, 
(The early, artless joys), which made my life 
A very dream of bliss, — but oh, the flood 
Of years since these have been ! 



THE DEPARTURE 113 

And when old friends 
Are fled, and grief far up the steeps has led 
Her sombre brood, and Sorrow, with her 

Sighs, 
Has wailed in tearful tones, " The morn of life 
Is past, — the evening comes at last," this sweet 
Refrain, and palpitate with trust in one 
True friend, (a sorrow's surcease), fills my heart 
With peace and tender tears ! Ay, tears, though 

not 
Of rue or ruth, but joy perennial. 
That Love shall triumph over Grief, and its 
Sweet ministry proclaim, that all that lives 
And loves is one vast brotherhood. 

So teach 
Me, MINSTREL, when grief comes, that love is 

law; 
That in Creation's bounds a heart beats strong 
For hearts in pain and grief, that all the world, 
(The living, sensate world), feels kinship, when 
Man veils his face in sorrow. Minstrel, teach 
Thou me the kinship of all things that breathe ; 
And when my life is spent, has vanished tone 
And tint, and grief a dear heart's heart shall 

pierce 
And pain, oh, may some sweet refrain bring 



And solace then, — some note of kindred care, 
Some cadence on the air, as gentle and 
As kind as " Old Dog Tray." 



114 THE PILGRIMS 

Bohemian, or no, 
I love thy songs. Inventor of no moods, 
Content to touch the common chords and set 
A-quiver life's great harp, attuned to joys 
And griefs of palace or of hut, thou art 
Inmiortal in the songs men sing. Live thou 
Forever, — art dies not ! The granite shaft, 
Which blazons thy great fame and proudly says, 
" Behold one worthy of art's golden crown," 
Shall crumble, but thy melodies shall live. 
Songs from thy lyre shall fret the air, and 

strains, 
Which first throbbed in thy soul, shall ages yet 
Speak peace to tried and troubled hearts. Thy 

name's 
A household word. As long as rippling rills, 
And sounding shoals, and seas with soughing 

sighs 
Te Deums raise, so long thy melodies, 
(Sweet-metered ministrants), shall healing bring. 
And balm. 



In palace, or in hut ; where youth 
And beauty while the thoughtless hour, or men, 
Grown gray with burdens, feel the stress of all 
This weary, unrequiting world ; in lands 
Kemote, in mountain fastnesses, or down 
By sounding seas, notes from thy lyre, far-famed, 
Or fugitive, still linger, whilst thou sleepest 
A long and dreamless sleep. 



THE DEPARTURE 115 

Live, thou, in song, — 
Art does not die ! In babbling brooks we hear 
Thee, and in sough of sad sea waves ; in lark 
And oriole ; in piping plover ; where 
The scarce harmonious sounds of distant dunes 
Enchantment lend to salt and sandy wastes, 
Thou art a Presence to disturb men's minds 
With thoughts and loves of long-departed years. 
E'en in all lands and in all sounds art thou. 
"We train our eyes upon the empyrean, — 
And lo, thy Star is there ! 



You've felt 
Prenatal pains, ere yet the womb gives forth 
Its freight, a precious, wailing life, and weak ? 
You've seen bold seamen on the shore, in spite 
Of angry waves, prepare to launch their boat. 
Though frail ? So, all-expectant these busied 
Themselves with this, now that, while ever the sense 
Of a divinely ordered way their feet 
Must tread beguiled the passing hours. Here 

found 
They rest from Herod and his hounding horde 
Of predatory priests and prelates. This, 
A sAveet surcease, (their noonday rest) ; — a brief 
Siesta^ (clept from cumbering cares) ; — a booth, 
When scorching wrath would deal its deadening 

dole ; — 



ii6 THE PILGRIMS 

A hurdle^ by which wolves are kept at bay, 
(The sheep safe folded) ; — a revetment^ when 
Proud, angry waves would whelm them fathoms 

deep ; — 
A sheltering shade, and 'neath its umbrel-bowers 
A rich foretaste of heavenly joy ! 'T was here 
They girt their loins, (took breath), while ever 

their hearts 
"Were set on one dear pui'pose to recoup 
The loss of ScROOBY, find on distant shores 
A home, gain foothold, — basement for the vast 
Emprise of civil rights for peasant as 
For prince ! 

O fair Dutch land, a covert, thou, 
A refuge from the storm ! The heat of wrath 
Thou didst allay, as by the grateful shade 
Of friendly bowers, — nursing mother thou 
Didst prove to Exiles, and the thralls of all 
The lands found succour at thy breast ! Let love 
Be thine, and peace and plenty, — thine the boon 
Which Heaven bestows on signal worth, and thine 
The matchless glory of a name which shall 
Not die ! 

Ah, Leyden, loved of God, thine were 
Benignant skies. Dutch burghers, staunch and 
brave. 



THE DEPARTURE 117 

'T were no mean prize to mingle blood with yours. 
For such an honour Britons might have turned 
Their backs upon the kingliest crowns, and trothed 
With you. Ay, marriage might have bound the 

twain 
In one ; and from such mingled virtues would 
Have sprung a race to change the destiny 
Of Europe and efface her weakness and 
Her shame ! 

Let fancy lift the veil which hides 
"What might have been." Fair, youthful faces 

rise 
Above the marge, — the beautiful, the strong, 
And marriage and the festal hour beguile 
Two peoples, knit as one, with largest hopes 
And tenderest joys ! ('T is but a vision.) Here 
At unlit hearthstones unborn maidens blush 
With consciousness of beauty, — there the light 
Of lofty purpose wreathes the brow of men 
Who would have ruled the world ! 

And wedding bells 
Ring out the joys of pure domestic bliss. 
The dayspring of a hardier race than yet 
The world has known, (nor English nor yet 
Dutch,) 



ii8 THE PILGRIMS 

A progeny to fill the world with hope ! 
Ay, Fancy hears the song which poets might 
Have sung, of love and love's increase, as when 
She wears the orange flower, or when on oft 
Recurring nuptial days he plights his troth 
With her to aye be true : 

Twenty-five years, O crescent love ! 
Twenty-five years, how the shadows move ! 
We spend our years as a tale that is told ; 
Yet the lives of the twain will ever prove, 
That the heart of true love can never grow old. 

Twenty-five years, what a march of time ! 
Oh, see how the lights and the shades combine 
To tell of the joys and the sorrows known 
By these who have loved with a love divine. 
Through all the ills which the years have sown. 

Twenty-five years, oh, the sweet refrain, 
As they plight their nuptial vows again ! 
Love's troth once more at the altar seen ; 
While the hearts of the loving, happy twain 
Responsive beat to the joys that have been. 

Twenty-five years, oh, the tender ruth 
Of each for each in the bonds of truth ! 
The heart's sweet thrill of forgiving grace 
And the lover love of their early youth 
The faint, last fear from their hearts efface. 



THE DEPARTURE 119 

Twenty-five ^^ears ! Bring the myrtle bough, 

An emblem fit for a deathless vow ; 

Trim a lithesome wreath of the laurel green, 

A chaplet meet for a fearless brow, — 

A proof of the love that long has been. 

Twenty-five years ! Bring the lilies dight, 
And orange blooms, that a crown of white 
May adorn the head of the lady fair. 
Whose heart is as pure as the morning light, 
When it shines through the lambent, living air. 

Twenty-five years, — now the beaker fill ! 
Pour the wine of love with a royal will ; 
Pour libations out to the coming years ! 
Fill the love of life with the life of love, till 
The world feels a dearth of sighs and tears 1 

Twenty-five years, — may this day again 
Return with its harvest of golden grain. 
And Fifty Long Years fill the chalice up 
With the wine of love for an honoured twain, — 
With this rare old wine fill their loving-cup ! 

Let Fancy's sweet 
Prevision of the years prove fruitful fact, 
As blooms precede the ripened grain, then were 
Two peoples knit by marriage, and a race 
Had been of Titans, whose resistless might 
Would topple down kings' thrones and change the 
map 

Of TIME ! 



I20 THE PILGRIMS 

God's paths seem devious, — His ways 
Are dark ! Puppets at Scrooby, hated by priest 
And prelate, one day come to Leyden, crowned 
By God's good grace, for empire vast, (hidden 
From work-day eyes, yet seen by Prophet-Seers), — 
Truth's Sovereign Sway o'er all the tyrannies 
Of earth ! 'T was theirs to raise a standard and 
To torch the path to freedom, — theirs when night 
"Was at its depth, nor stars could guide, to point 
The goal, the beaconing bourne, and treasure-house 
Of all earth's coming hosts ! 

As if the skies 
"Were filled with tongues, they hear a voice, " West- 
ward 
The course of empire takes its way ! " A 

truth. 
And fitly said ! But who save poet-seers 
Had dared to dream, that one fair Autumn day, 
The Delft should see a band of Pilgrims, bowed 
In prayer, in numbers few, intent to do 
A DEED all times call great ! 

Hard by the Delft 
A boat moves with the ebb and flood, the while 
A man of God, John Eobinson, lifts voice 
In prayer. It were perfection of all art 



THE DEPARTURE 121 

To tell the deep, rich undertones of faith, 

The childlike trust, the pleading voice, that God 

Would keep them safe who there embarked, and 

guide 
Them o'er the Deep, — the upturned, reverent face. 
Beseeching look, the tender pathos, as 
He spoke of parting, and the prayer, that these 
Who tarried for a season, might at length 
Rejoin their dear ones in that far-off land 
Beyond the seas ! 

And when in tearful tones 
He spoke of severed ties, the deep, low moan, 
The stifled sob, plainer than words can tell, 
Revealed the parting pain. 

The die was cast. 
The DEED was done, and these shall men call great ! 



Into the light now come. Behold 
On eastern hilltops orient gleams 

Usher the dawn. Forest and wold. 
Ravine and wooded glen, the beams 

Reflect, like echoes from the deep 
Of caves ; and lo, above the marge 

Rises a face ! The shadows creep, 



122 THE PILGRIMS 

Thief-like, westward, just as a barge 
Freighted with pirate-pillage finds 
Safety in sunset mists. 

Oh, come 

Into the light ! Long darkened minds 
Awake, as in the glow of some 

Eternal truth, — the Calvin-star 
Ascendant! Say, the blazing sun 

Hurtles the hydra-heads ! Afar, 
As 't were Apollo on the run, 

Amaze and trembling make knees knock 
And kingly faces ashen, while 

Prelatic zeal pales in the shock 
Of shattered expectation! 

yae, 

As hearts that germinate and grow 
The moral ulcer, till it breeds 

Contagion, and both high and low 
"We seek in vain unselfish deeds 

In friend and brother, was the blight 
Which settled over Europe, till 

Genevan heights sent forth a light, — 
The heralding of God's great will ! 



BOOK V 
A Tale of the Sea 



The Theme, — The Pilgrims after leaving Holland 
made their first start for the new world from South- 
ampton. On the claim that the Speedwell had sprung 
a leak they put back to Dartmouth. From this port 
Ihey made a second start, and on the fact, or pretense, 
that the ship was not seaworthy they put into Plym- 
outh. Here the Speedwell was abandoned, and 
those who were not entirely disheartened transferred 
to the Mayflower. On the sixteenth of September 
they finally set sail for the new world, and after a 
stormy and trying voyage of some sixty-five days saw 
the land. This book supports the contention that 
God is forefront in the march of truth. God's fore- 
knowledge and plan embraced the entire course of 
the Pilgrims, and every consequence, including the 
voyage and the incident of the Jackscrew, the dreadful 
first winter in New England, the American Civil War, 
the emancipation of the slaves, the Pilgrim Prince and 
the Cavalier in conflict at Gettysburg, the triumph of 
the Calvinistic Creed, the Cuban's cry for help, and the 
charge up San Juan. The pertinent question of this 
book is. Did God approve, or maJce, the Pilgrim Plan ? 
You take your choice, and pay the price ! This canto 
closes with the explanation of ''the philosophical 
creed," and with the epilogue, " My Home in me." 



' A Tale of the Sea 

Out and out on a boundless sea, 
Far out from the land that is home to me 
Is heard the droning sough of the sea, 
Like a muffled voice that is calling me ; 
And I know far out on that boundless SEA 
Abides a Presence that is calling me. 

Out and out and far away 

I hear the sighing waters say. 

In tones that are muffled and far away, 

In sea-tones sad I hear them say, 

" Thy heart's true home is far away ; 

Come home, come home," I hear them say. 

Out and out on a shoreless deep, 
"Where sleepless wraiths their vigils keep. 
Is heard a Voice that is low and deep, 
" The appointed tryst I'll siu-ely keep ; 
Come out, come out on the shoreless deep ; 
Faith's faltering faith I'll surely keep." 

And I know in my heart that a Pilot true 
Will guide my barque o'er the deep so blue ; 
He calls me now, I know 't is true ; 
I can hear Ilis voice o'er the waters blue ; 
'T is the loving voice of my Pilot true 
He calls me now from the deep so blue. 
125 



126 THE PILGRIMS 

Ho ! men, who flout and fleer the Pilgrim blood, 
What say you now ? Time-servers, what say you ? 
Crj:ed critics, and wise men of larger breed. 
What also you ? Call th.Q^G fanatics, doomed 
To lowest rueful pits of dark mischance 
And mad, mistaken zeal for truth ? What had 
You said, if on a sad September day, 
Out of the Bay of Plymouth, you had seen 
A boat and frail, sore fraught with souls, sail forth, 
Prow Westward turned, intent to tempt wild winds, 
(All Neptune's wrath), precursor of great deeds, — 
Men, wives and children, (sweethearts too), em- 
barked, 
(Ship weighted to the gunwale's almost edge), 
And on to find a home on barren shores ? 
And CREED-and-CALViN haters, you to whom 
Predestination^ is a scare-word big 
With darkest portent, prone to make knees knock 
And faces ashen, what say you ? Was God's , 
Hand there, or no ? If no, then happy chance, — 
The Pilgrims' luck ! Why not ? So, then, 't was 

just 
Their luck, one sad September day, to sail. 
One hundred souls and two, out of the Bay 
Of Plymouth, e'en to cross a trackless sea ! 
" Bad luck," you say, " bad luck for princes," so 
It seemed ; for twice from Albion's harbours, hearts 



A TALE OF THE SEA 127 

With hope elate, and canvas filled, two ships, 
(The Speedwell and the Mayflower), launched, 

(afloat 
On ebbing tides), fare forth, and twice return ! 
Leak-sprung, wind-tried, the Speedwell, (manned 

by knaves), 
Baffles the harried Scrooby-Pilgrims, till 
At Plymouth, half their number sore perplexed, — 
(Ay, tricked by fell deceit), give up the flight. 
New deal I For now the summer's well-nigh spent, 
(Much substance also spent), and knaves absolved 
From compacts, so shall souls one hundred two, 
The firstlings so to speak, unblemished, strong. 
Thrice sifted, — once at Scrooby, once again 
At Leyden, yet once more at Plymouth, tricked, 
Ay, tempted, troubled, tried, the Mayflower 

choose ; 
Transfer themselves, their chattels, (slender store). 
To one frail barque. " So staked their all," you say, 
" r)n one slim, last despairing chance ? " Nay, but 
On faith ! Ay, strong, unw^avering faith, that God, 
In plenitude of grace, had chosen them, — 
Would also guide them safe, though boisterous 

storms 
Might hound them Herod-like! Staked all on 

chance ? 
Nay, sir, on faith., that though the labouring craft 



128 THE PILGRIMS 

MigM cringe and creak, yet in the calm of faith, 
And unperturbed repose, could say to those 
"Who manned the ship, " Ye bear the Ark of God ! " 
Bad luck, that these, the firstlings of the flock, 
Unblemished, strong, unswerved by cunning craft, 
(Thrice sifted ere they journeyed o'er the Deep), 
Should feel the stress of storm-tossed, treacherous 

seas, 
Till out of night dawn ushers day ? If chance. 
Then good, — Darwinian wisdom worth our while 
To know, how now the fittest shall survive, 
And those less fit shall fail and find an end ! 
Say, CREED-and-CALViN haters, you who fear 
Predestination so, stern earthquake-word, 
What say you now ? 'T was just their luck, a chance, 
That brought them safe o'er surging seas, — or say, 
An afterthought of God, who wills at times 
To take a hand, when deeds grow big ? Too small 
The ripple on a Scrooby sea long since 
To merit Heaven's care ? Ever the way • 
With men who fear the earthquake-word, — all's 

chance, 
Undreamed of luck, and God's a derelict, 
Some miles away, until the battle's won, 
Then comes to claim the fame, (the lion's share). 
Prize money, booty, all,— so very like 
Our human manners, moods, and ways ! 



A TALE OF THE SEA 129 

The sky was dark, (a dismal sight) ; 
The true was false, the good was bad, 

The day dawned into blackest night, 
And sorrow laughed and joy was sad ; 

And from the nightmare spell that changed 
The polar opposites in me, 

A bird, ill-omened, slowly ranged, — 
A raven-croaking mystery ! 

I saw an Angel on the wing ; 
He touched my brow, the false was true ; 

I heard a minstrel chorus ring 
Eeveilles in the vault of blue. 

The shadows fled, the light once more 
Filled earth and sky and bower and hall ; 

From mountain peak to sounding shore 
Calm quiet brooded over all. 

And thus I know the good in me. 
Sweet Angel, will at last prevail. 

And Night and all its minions flee, 
And Evil flicker to its fail. 

Calvin, 
Or no, the truth frowns terrible and balks 
The base insinuation, that for one 
Least minute God was derelict ! Who dares 
Deny, that God was forefront in affrays 
At ScROOBY ? Made He not poor puppets strong. 



I30 THE PILGRIMS 

When strength alone the truth could save ? 

Inclined 
He not the Leyden burghers to ope wide 
The gates ? 

'T was no Darwinian chance, that one 
Of Gallia's sons should from Genevan heights 
Speak forth the dread, portentous word, and wide 
O'er Europe send amaze and trembling, meet 
To ashen-blanch the sternest face. God saw, 
(Foresaw), a woeful wickedness enthroned, — 
And loud through Calvin thundered. No ! 

From Light's 
First dawn upon abysmal chaos was 
His gracious will to lay arresting hands 
On sightless error and defeat the arch 
Conspirators against the march of truth 
From ScROOBY ! He had seen, (foreseen), the 

gloom, — 
Kings' choler and prelatic zeal, anon, 
His Pilgrim-puppets in prenatal throes, 
(The presage of a precious birth), — the flight, 
"With Leyden's gates ajar, — a boat, wind-tossed 
On dark, tempestuous seas, — a winter's night 
Of suffering on bleak New England shores ! 
God looked again, — a mighty nation stood 



A TALE OF THE SEA 131 

Upon its feet, and Strife and deadly Feuds 
Divided part from part, — 'twas slavery's blight 
With baleful finger-tips had touched the springs 
Of life ! Shall say, God saw, (foresaw) ? Nay, 

planned 
And heralded its doom through Calvin, and 
So taught the world the parity of men ! 
Predestinated, (that's the word), the march 
Of truth, — the Pilgrim-Prince and Cavalier 
Upon the Field of Gettysburg, (the strife 
And carnage), North and South distraught, the 

land 
Restored and reunited, one in plan 
And purpose, great beyond the hope of men. 
The triumph of the creed, — the Cuban's cry. 
The fierce, mad charge up San Juan ! 

Once we heard a voice on the bluff March gale ; 

And it said, " Kinsmen, hail ! 

Let our friendship last long as love doth last. 

And have done with a worn-out tale ! " 

And our hearts were stirred by the wild wind's 

blast, 
And the voice on the bluff March gale. 

So we tuned our harp to a kindred song, 
" We severed have been too long " ; 
Let the " worn-out tale " forever fail, 



132 THE PILGRIMS 

" The tale of an ancient wrong ; 

And our friendship last long as love doth last, 

And be stronger than death is strong." 

Thus we answered our kinsmen over the sea : 

Happy and strong are we ; 

Happy and strong in this night of wrong ; 

Happy and strong are we ; 

Strong in the love of our kinsmen strong, 

Who dwell far over the sea. 



Hail, Britons ! We greet you, hail ! 

We have done with the " worn-out tale." 

You have given us cheer in our night of fear, — 

The right shall now prevail ; 

True friends in need are friends indeed ; 

We have done with the " worn-out tale " ! 

We answer as man to man. 

Sons of the selfsame clan ; 

We give you the grasp of the hand's true clasp ; 

We answer as man to man ; — 

As long as the English tongue shall last 

We will trust you as brothers can. 

Hail, Britons, lords of the sea ! 

We twain shall brothers be ; 

In an Empire vast that shall ever last 

Our tongue shall spoken be ; 

We will march in the van as brothers can, 

Whose love is as deep as the sea. 



A TALE OF THE SEA 133 

Long live the queenliest Queen 

The nations have ever seen ! 

With a record as white as the crystal bright 

Transmitting the sun's pure sheen ; 

American freemen speak loud the praise 

Of Briton's queenliest Queen ! 

Yes, we answer as man to man, 

As only brothers can ; 

We will take our place with our kindred race ; 

We will march in the nations' van ; 

Our love shall be strong as our hate was wrong ; 

We answer as man to man. 

The Star-Spangled Banner on the breeze now 

blows 
With the shamrock, thistle and rose. 
Like friends as true as the sky's deep blue ; 
Our wills none dares oppose ; 
Our troth is as true as the sea's deep blue, 
Whenever the war-wind blows. 

Hail, kinsmen, far over the sea ! 

Happy and strong are we ; 

Happy and strong in this night of wrong ; 

Happy and strong are we ; 

Strong in the love of our kinsmen strong 

Who dwell far over the sea ! 

This length 
To say, God sees all deeds, link fitting link. 
Step timing step, in one unbroken march 



134 THE PILGRIMS 

To civil and religious liberty ? 

Kay, what God knows, and wills, (these t"vvo are 

one), 
Binds all free actions into one great plan, 
God-centred and sustained ! 'T is sovereign will 
In league with sovereign grace, eternal act, 
Nor thine nor mine, my friend ! Did God ajpprove, 
Or make the Scrooby-Pilgrim plan ? 

Fear not, — 
The barque from bottom barnacled to jibs. 
From poop to keel, from stem to stern, was 

God's,— 
Planned in the counsels of His grace, ere time. 
Birdlike, had ranged ! What ? This insensate 

thing 
Of shipwright craft, wind-tossed on trackless seas, 
(Poor, dumb and dry-dock thing), from jib to keel 
Was God's ? Ay, His barque, and predestinate ! 
E'en so the march from Scrooby, famed for an 
Immortal deed, to Santiago and 
The daring, brave Eough Eiders' charge ! 

" Don't cheer, boys. 
The poor devils are dying ! " 
And the voice of the speaker 
Was choked with emotion, 
As with horror he saw 



A TALE OF THE SEA 135 

Spanish rage and devotion. 
" Don't cheer," he said ; 
For off towards the shore, 
Hacked, shivered and shattered 
Stood the Squadron of Spain, 
Black, beaten and battered. 
O God, what a sight 
For a sailor to see, 
Whose heart has a touch 
Of sweet charity, — 
The decks running red 
With the living outflow 
Of Spanish devotion 
And valour ! 

I know 
There is not a brave heart 
In American blue 
But could weep for the Spaniard 
Who stood strong and true 
To the flag of his country 
On that fatal day, 
When out from the harbour, 
Leagues and leagues far away 
From kindred and country 
He sailed. 

And the Commander 
Who said it proved his valour indeed 
Was as great as the heart 
Which had prompted the meed 



136 THE PILGRIMS 

Of compassion and pity 
For brave, fearless men 
In defense of their country and fiag. 



On history's page, 

On, on in the annals 

And age after age, 

Are the deeds which were done 

In compassion and pity 

For foemen and strangers 

Crushed, humbled and beaten ; 

And his name men will honour 

Long centuries still 

Who Avith kindness of heart 

And firmness of wiU 

Could say, " Don't cheer, boys, 

The poor devils are dying ! " 

'T was God 
Who 'plsLimedj—^redestinatedy (there's the word, 
The earthquake word), the flight from Scrooby, 

chose 
From all eternity His Pilgrim band, 
(Though not for worth in them, but gave them 

Avorth 
Through years of stress), — it pleased Him so ! 

How fares 
It now with SOULS one hundred two afloat 



1 



A TALE OF THE SEA 137 

On treacherous seas, intent to find a home 
On barren shores ? Can scarce repress the smile, 
Which sometimes furtive plays, at hardihood 
Of zeal to hope, one hundred souls and two, 
To cross the chartless Deep, envisage storms. 
And sternest stress ! Repress a smile ? Eather 
A tear, though not of grief, but heartfelt joy, — 
The tender pathos, all so strangely sweet. 
Of Pilgrims tempest-tossed, embarked in one 
Small boat, men, women, children, sweethearts, 

wives, 
(Faith strong 'mid darkening skies), — 't was such a 

sight 
As makes men weep sweet, tender tears ! 

fair of face and pure of heart, 
Demandest, ere the lay is done, 

1 rest a little from my art. 

As toilers cease, when lo, the sun 

Sinks in the bosom of the sea ? 
Nay, but I gird myself anew ; 

For on the heights, perchance for me, 
A higher height beguiles my view. 

The stream that babbles at our feet 
From loftier levels finds its way, 

And clouds and snow-capped summits greet 
The orient heralds of the day. 



138 THE PILGRIMS 

So up and on ! I sometimes see 
The aureole-mist, the lambent light,- 
I follow fast ! 



Ah, not for me, 
That dearer day, that higher height ! 

But these 
Are now mid-ocean, and the storm which oft, 
When days and nights are equal, breaks in rage 
On hapless mariners, nor rudders rule 
The course, distraught the Pilgrim band! A 

beam 
Is wrested from the plates on which the beam 
Ends rest, — starboard and port no longer hold 
Against the weight of water, ah, my friend, 
A simple Jackscrew, mark the word ! My soul 
Laughs to itself a silent laugh of joy, — 
The wise forethoughtedness of God ! 

In all 
The humble store of souls afloat this one 
Lone, unsuspecting Jackscrew, brought to bear 
With proper craft, restores the beam, resolves 
The DOUBT, saves Pilgrim-princes on the 

Deep, — 
At least jacks up a drooping hope ! 






A TALE OF THE SEA 139 

"Well, now, — 
The unsuspecting Jackscrew, (pivot, so 
To speak, a spiral pivot, point on which 
Should turn the Mayflower destiny), was it 
Man's wise provision for a looked-for need, 
(Preparedness for a task), a happy chance^ 
Or God's good deed jDredestinate ? This shall 
Be as you like, — a happy chance, (mere luck) ; — 
Man's providence, (and clearly wise), — or God's 
Predestined plan ! Take now your choice, and pay 
The price ! 

And so the ship sailed on, and on 
The Pilgrim-princes, checked and checkered by 

change. 
And seeming chance, as erst from Scrooby, erst 
To Leyden with its gracious gates ajar. 
Now out on trackless western seas, afloat. 
Afar from loved and lost, (God's Israel 
In flight), tossed, tempted, tried on life's rough 

sea; 
Balked, bafiled, buffeted, they keep the faith. 
And onward sail ! This day fond hope, that day 
Dark fear, sat in the prow, yet strong their faith, 
That He who led an ancient Israel band, 
His glory veiled in pillared clouds, would guide. 
And so safe haven them at last ! 



I40 THE PILGRIMS 

A sigh 
Rose audible, for now three thousand miles 
Divide them from their Albion's sea-girt shores, 
And oft the silent tear ! So far it seemed, 
And yet not far, as God counts far ; for what 
Is distance, if souls live and move and have 
Their being's root in God ? Nay, space and time 
Are only such as seem, mere mental forms ; — 
Mind's somewhat in the 'sum of learning's lore, 
Yet needful as t\\Q forms of things, (mind's more 
Than what the senses see), the moulds in which 
We fashion all this verdant, emerald world, 
(Green goggles whence we see things green), the eyes, 
Wherewith in dim perspective we behold 
The cosmic forces moving ceaselessly, 
As from the centre of all centres forth 
There issues the eternal purpose. Ah, 
In like perspective see the Deeds of men. 
Link locked in link, a chain which binds the 7ioios 
And thens, — a form so real in our thought, 
That men are prone, unwittingly, to call 
Time real in the real sense, as if 
It were a great extended void, in which 
All DEEDS shall have their home, and GoD and 

Man 
Live, love and labour in the realm of time ! 
Ay, sir, unlettered ones are fain to call 



A TALE OF THE SEA 141 

Time real^ as when one with jaundiced eyes 
Sees saffron-tinge light up the face of things, 
And verily believes things saffron, or 
At least of orange hue ! 

E'en as I write, 
A smile breaks o'er my face, (a furtive smile). 
To think how cocksure is this naive man ! 
He says, " Space is man's home," (receptacle 
Of things), a boundless, vast vacuity 
In which God sets His lumps, (His molecules), 
To work, with predesign, and says "Now mix, — 
Ay, mingle and ee things ! " 



Explain the creed, 
This philosophic creed ? You have a right 
To hear in simple words, that no real soul^ 
Nor God's^ nor Man^s, nor DeviVs is in space. 
Or time, — these are the subject-norms through which 
We come to knowledge of God's world, of self 
In truth, so real in our knowing, yet 
Mere seeming, when we take into account 
Man's being ! 

Pray, abide in this large truth. 
And the dark waves, which oft in maelstroms drag 



142 THE PILGRIMS 

Men down, will bear your Mayflower barque 

safe on 
O'er troubled seas, and you shall anchor, when 
The journey has its end ! 

But TIME, how swift 
Is seeming time, — a shuttle in the loom, — 
A breaking wave, — a shadow in the gloam. 
As now we seek to read, with straining eyes. 
And learn, that life is fleeting, — naught but Love 
Endures : 



The crisp air breaks in icy flakes, 

all is fleeting. 
The chafing March winds hurry on, 

all is fleeting. 
The frozen rills on all the hills 
Awaken to the tender thrills 
Of life reorient from the ills 

of winter hoary ; 
The sunlight crawls along the walls. 
The circling mist now rises, falls ; 
So great a change my heart appalls, — 

all is fleeting. 
On mead and moor, on plain and hill 
The flying cloud now lightens ; 
And o'er and o'er and more and more 
The smiling sun now brightens ; 
Yet ever comes the sad refrain. 



A TALE OF THE SEA 143 

I hear it o'er and o'er again, — 

all is fleeting. 

The birds of spring are on the wing, 

all is fleeting. 
They soon will mate in marsh and brake, 

all is fleeting. 
Afar is heard the curlew's call ; 
The jackdaw's cry is first of all ; 
The winter's gone and past recall, — 

gone in his glory. 
The quicks now swell in mead and dell ; 
The growing bulb and living cell 
The same sad story SAveetly tell, 

all is fleeting. 
The corn will ripen in the sun ; 
The Summer's tasks will soon be done ; 
The Autumn with its ripened grain 
Will fill the earth with hope again ; 
Yet lingers in my heart the strain. 
Its voice is like a living pain, 

all is fleeting. 

From far and near this tale I hear, 
all is fleeting. 

It rings its changes on mine ear, 

all is fleeting. 

I see it in the passing night, 

I see it in the dawning light ; 

I read it in the pages bright 

of ancient story. 

It tells of voices hushed and still, 



144 THE PILGRIMS 

Loved forms bereft of living will ; 

My heart with pain these sad words fill, 

all is fleeting. 
The rose that kissed the morning sun, 
Ere nightfall found its race was run ; 
The youth that clambers up the steep 
Intent on manhood's duties meet, 
Ere quite the summit is attained, 
This simple truth has fully gained, 

all is fleeting. 



The central sun his race will run, 

all is fleeting. 
Earth's given tasks will then be done, 

all is fleeting. 
Art, Science, Form, all richest thought. 
Creeds, Faiths, Beliefs, however wrought, 
"Will perish all men ever taught 

of human glory. 
All knowledge born of place and time. 
All systems mighty in their prime 
Will perish though they seem divine, 

all is fleeting. 
The dearest idol heart can claim, 
The gilded domes of earthly fame 
Will pass forever into night ; 
Naught shall remain to faith or sight. 
Save God, thy soul, and love divine ; 
In Him stand strong ; abide His time, — 

all else is fleeting. 



A TALE OF THE SEA 145 

How worse than witless are mere words 
To fashion forth the soul's sore sense and brood 
Of sorrows ! How inapt is speech to clothe 
In subtilizing moods the lines, which give 
The grave and gay, till luminous they touch 
The heart's deep motions into Kembrandt feats 
Of shade and shine ! 

As if in joy's despite 
Some seeming casual straits relieved the mind, — 
The beam's mishap, (presageful of the 

end), — 
The simple Jackscrew ready at a pinch, — 
The seaman's death, (so bold to blaspheme God 
And fill the air with oaths and ribald jests, — 
God's recompense for shooting out vile lips. 
The Pilgrims well believed,— a judgment this ! ),— 
John Howland's rescue from a watery 

GRAVE, • 

When rolling billows hurled him from the deck,— 
A Pilgrim birth and death, (and still all souls 
One hundred two, intent to cross the Deep)— 
These served at times to lighten many a care. 
And save the heart from anguish ! 

Will it end. 
The story ? Ay, 't will end \ 



146 THE PILGRIMS 

Full sixty days 
And five, they sailed, till on November ninth, 
(Who can forget the year ? ), at daybreak, as 
The Sun peeped out of the purpling East, they heard. 
With PAROXYSMAL JOY, the sailor's cry 
Of Ho, Land, Ho ! 



One day I mused. There came to rae 
The vision of a far-off past ; 

Alone I stood beside a sea. 
And slow-receding tides their last 

Faint kiss had left upon the sands, 
Where once another with me walked 

And held discourse on distant lands, 
The social frame of this, or talked 

On themes which look beyond the ken 
Of mortal eyes. And there again 

I seem to hold discourse, as when 
In sunnier days I talked with men 

On all the march of mind, — but not 
With him, ah, not with him ! For he 

Had gone, gone from my sight, nor aught 
Of this once friend now could I see. 

Strain eyes howmuchsoe'er to aid, — 
Yastness, vacuity, ay, void 

Was all the world of him I 



A TALE OF THE SEA 147 

I laid 
My hand upon my heart, so cloyed 

With things of sense, and thought of him, 
And all the mystery of life, 

And death, and whether thick or thin 
The veil which hides him from the strife 

Which buffets me. And out of want 
That one should speak with me and save 

Me from my darker self, (the haunt 
Of frightful fears), quickly I gave 

Surcease to sighs, and said, " O Soul 
Of mine, I'll speak with thee, as one 

In friendly converse. I, (the whole 
Of all I call myself), will come 

And sup with thee, as friend with friend,— 
Will still the questioning and plaint 

Of all thy darker moods, and send 
Thee rest from fears ! " 

And as the faint, 

First glimmer of the light, which wakes 
The dawn, makes shadows of our forms. 

When once we face the East, and takes 
Its upward course and slowly warms 

The waiting West, so had new life 
Possessed me ! I had found myself 

At vaster deeps than erst, hope rife 



148 THE PILGRIMS 

Amid doubt's chaos, — factious Guelph 

And Ghibelline of me at peace, 
The while in breathless calm of thought 

I felt the deepet motions cease, 
E'en as the sea, by storms distraught, 

Will ere long sink to hush. 

I could 
No longer doubt, that in the rush 

And riot, (evil matched with good), 
The hurly-burly bad in flush 

Of seeming triumph Avould subside, 
(Lie tremblingly ensconced in fear), 

While righteousness would stretch its wide 
Sea-soaring pinions far and near. 

Quiet the water's rale and roar. 
Inspire the doubting heart with strength, 

And lift the soul to more and more. 

In converse thus with self, at length. 

Outspoke the self in me, (which seems 
So more than self), " Child," said he, 

" I am thy home ! E'en as the beams 
Live in the central Sun, in me 

rind thou thy being's deepest root ! 
Thy friend, whose flesh has passed away, — 

He has no whither gone ! Though mute 



A TALE OF THE SEA 149 

His voice, and, straining eyes, you say, 

' Gone from my anxious sight ! ' yet know. 
He lives, and moves, and is, where all 

Things live and move and are ; and though 
His form lies in the dust, yet call 

Kot to the grave for 'plenishment 
Of joys despoiled. He ever lives 

Lime!" 

Thus help had come, as sent 
Of that which in me darkly gives 

Presage of life's yet larger life ; 
For I had found my home in me, 

My land Ely si an, free from strife. 
The quiet sense of liberty 

From fears, — the Guelph and Ghibelline 
Of all my troubled years in truce 

For reconcilement, (self in fine 
The arbiter) ; the fast and loose, 

(Inconstant play of fancy), brought, 
Perforce, to feel the sovereign arm 

Of that which lives in me and naught 
Can fathom ! " So," said I, " no harm 

Can come from Death, O factious fears ! 
There is no ' whither,' whence the soul 

Looks back o'er space and fleeting years. 
In isolation from the whole 



I50 THE PILGRIMS 

Created realm of life. It dwells 
In God, then, now, and evermore ! " 

Take up thy burdens. In the dells 
And dewy meads which line the shore 

Of the eternal river we 
Call life are grots and cooling shade, — 

Fair oases of ease and free 
From turmoil. Eest thou there ! The glade 

And upland, and the higher height 
May beacon, but content to do 

The thing which presses closest light 
Will break ; the fear which frightens too 

"Will vanish in thin air ; the worm 
And mid-earth minions, which distort 

Life's sunny dreams and deftly turn 
Man's shine to shade, will, aU amort 

And shorn of shaggy shrink, retreat, 
As if rebuked, into the deep 

Of dark oblivion. 

'T is meet 
To think of death as shrift, (mere peep 

Into one's life and being), stroke 
Of priestly craft, whereby to cleanse 

The false from true, absolve or cloak 
Some sin, make somehow large amends 



A TALE OF THE SEA 151 

For dereliction ; but the boon, 
Believ^e me, is the larger life 

Its gates throw open, — blazing noon 
Of rich fruition, free from strife, 

And from the fitful fever and 
The aching toil of weary years ! 

Believe me, Death is but the hand 
Which saves us from our silly fears. 

And says, " Thou shalt no whither go, 
When mortal pains have grappled thee, — 

Thou art in God ! " 

Ah, even so 
He dwells in me the larger me, — 

The SELF and self forever safe 
From dissolution, pact to hold, 

When worlds shall die ! 

The creeds which chafe 
Us out of happiness, and bold 

To place their imprimatur where 
Men fain would think or feel shall die ; 

But we in fellowship, as fair 
As light and sweet as song, shall hie 

Us on to ages without end ! 
In fellowship ? Ay, fellowship 

With SELF, the deeper self, the friend 



152 THE PILGRIMS 

With whom we sup, and touch or tip 
Our elbows scarce akimbo, — home 

Elysian, if we find ourselves 
At deepest deeps ! 

And thus alone 
I held converse, as fays with elves. 



BOOK VI 
The Landing 



The Theme, — The Landing deals with the sign- 
ing of the Compact, aud the choosiug of a home. On 
the twenty-first day of November the Mayflower cast 
anchor in Provincetown harbour, and immediately 
proceeded to draw up a Compact, or Constitution, for 
their government on the land. On Saturday, Decem- 
ber the twenty-first, they landed on Clark's Island 
in the harbour of Plymouth. They spent Sunday on 
the island, and on Monday, the twenty-third, crossed 
to the mainland. On the thirtieth day of December 
they chose the site of Plymouth. It was not the in- 
tention of the Pilgrims to seek a place so far North, 
but the Commander of the ship either intentionally, 
or unintentionally, landed them at this place. Many 
have held that the Dutch Captain was acting for a 
Dutch Company who desired that the land in the 
region of the Hudson Eiver should be kept for them. 
The Mayflower expedition was financed by a London 
Company, known as The Gentlemen Adventurers. 
These laid heavy conditions on the Pilgrims, and the 
annual interest required was about equal to half the 
capital furnished. The book closes with a char- 
acterization of some of the leading members of the 
colony. 



The Landing 

Ho, land, ho ! Brave hearts triumphant ! 
Sweet the sound, — 't is bugle-clear ! 
Ho, land, ho ! Oh, hark, oh, hear it ! 
Rings the welkin with a cheer. 

Ho, land, ho ! With joy they hail it ! 
Freedom-loving men are they. 
Ho, land, ho ! The clouds have rifted, — 
"Watchers see the dawn of day ! 

Ho, land, ho ! The heart-strings quaver ! 
Pilgrims weep with joy to see 
The haven of a long endeavour, — 
Promised land of liberty. 

Ho, land, ho ! Long hast thou waited ! 
Lo, thy natal day is near ; 
In a humble barque sore freighted, 
List, the psalms of happy cheer ! 

Ho, land, ho ! What hopes have centred 
In the Pilgrim band and thee ! 
Glory in excelsis, glory 
To the God that guardeth thee ! 



156 THE PILGRIMS 

Ho, land, ho ! Thy fame shall ever 
Lhiked with Pilgrim Princes be ; 
On thy 'scutcheon they've inscribed it,- 
Land of civil liberty ! 



Oh, is it, oh, is it the land they have sighted. 
The dim, broken coastline luring low in the West ? 
Oh, is it, oh, is it their hopes' rich fruition, — 
The LAND OF THE PiLGRiMS, the land of the 
blest ? 

Far over the gunwale dim eyes are now straining, 
Adim with the tears of men weeping for joy ; 
Long, long have they waited the sweetest of 

music, — 
The sailor's glad message, bliss free from alloy ! 

Oh, live, sturdy Pilgrims, on, on through the 



A beacon in darkness, a guide to the blind ; 

In character make us staunch-hearted and tender, 

Triumphant in realms of morals and mind. 

When dark o'er the nations the upas shall lower, 
His branches spread wide over temple and school, 
Twin monsters of evil. Agnostic and Devil, 
Oh, may your great creed all our purposes rule. 



Oh, the land, oh, the land, oh, the land they see ! 
And their hearts beat strong and joyously ; 



THE LANDING 157 

For a Pilgrim Barque o'er the stormy seas 
Has come with its freight, and the joy of these 

In a psahn of praise o'er the water rings. 
Oh, the Mayflower's come, and the creed it 
brings 

Will shake the throne of the tyrant-king ; 
And ages on will the poets sing 

Of the Pilgrim Barque and the Pilgrim breed, 
Of the virile blood and the saving creed. 

Oh, the faith sublime and the tender trust. 
Their love of truth and their dealings just ! 

From the lust of gold and the curse of greed 
As pure as the snow on the frosted mead. 

May their blood rule long in freemen's veins ; 
Their love of truth and exalted aims 

Be a beacon lit to insure the way 
To a purer life and an ampler day ! 

A surcease sigh, then rest ; 
As when on tiptoe-strain of wavering hope 
And expectation, days protracted, week 
Succeeding week, the issue still in doubt. 
Despite their care, men longing wait and watch 



158 THE PILGRIMS 

A soulless dial, while its face unmoved 

By doubts or fears, or hopes or joys, tells off 

The slowly-moving march of time, till grows 

An agony of pent-up, sore suspense. 

So tension-taut, all hearts intent, they hear 

Hail from the lookout watch the sudden cry 

Of "Ho, land, ho!" 

Joy, like a stream suppressed, 
(Held back), ay, aching ages held in thrall. 
Till one day, lo, as if at crack of doom. 
And earthquake shock removes all hindering 

weight, — 
Outbursts the stream, wells forth at floodtide gauge 
Unchecked, resistless, waiting water, (long 
Encaverned in its rocky cells), then finds 
A gentle level over wide-spread plains, — 
So Pilgrim joy ! 

Say, can an artist paint 
A purpose, deep and true, as the ruby-red 
Of human hearts, — a sacrifice as pure 
And golden as the perihelion orbs, 
"When nearest to the Sun ? If so, then shall 
His brush portray time's grandest scene, — the 

DEED, 

"Which on November's twenty-first bleak day 



THE LANDING 159 

Made evennore the shores of sinuous 

Cape Cod the Bethlehem of freedom's Wrth ! 

For now the tunes were big, the days well-nigh 

Accomplished, and the travail pains bore down, 

As footsore and a- weary they had come, 

(These Josephs and these Maeys), in the throes 

Of expectation, far o'er trackless seas. 

To Bethlehem, and found nor inn nor dumb 

Brutes' stall for shelter and for rest. And ere 

The Mayflower guuAvale they had crossed there 

lived. 
As by a precious birth, a nation, born 
Of strong desire ! 

Darwinian chance was this, 
O Calvin-critic ? Lame luck's legacy 
To ScROOBY puppets on the sandy shoals, — 
The mere caprice of fate ? Or say, a deed 
Predestinate, that in a quiet nook. 
Far from the haunts of empire-loving men 
A birth should be, — a Messianic light 
To torch the nations ? 

Goddess of the free. 
Didst thou not travail in the pangs of hope ? 
Thy faith recked not the deadness of the Avomb, 
Nor yet the far-spent years, that from thy loins 



i6o THE PILGRIMS 

Might come a race of freedom-loving men, 

As many as the stars of night, and as 

The sands which skirt the seas for multitudes ! 

Bring sensibility, (a heart to feel) ; 

Kead in the Pilgrim tale that which the eyes 

Of forthright craftsmen never see, the art. 

Formless indeed, truth elemental and 

Eternal, and your soul shall live ! And if 

Such apprehension shall so cause to live 

The soul of him, who tells this tale, and breed 

In him the art-sense, which so subtly sees 

In quarried blocks truth elemental and 

Eternal, living, breathing, redolent 

Of effluence sweet, (the angel winged to fly), 

Oh, may not God omnipotent to do 

Breathe on this work-day, craftsman's hand of his, 

Till doors shall open to the chisel's touch, 

And forth the fair form flies ! 

A scene is here 
To beggar all our words ! Ere yet the ship 
Finds anchor in the harbour one by one 
They gather in the Mayflower cabin quaint 
And queer. All ruder sounds seem hushed, as if 
A DEED portentous, fraught with doom, now palled 
The sight. With deep solemnity, such as 



THE LANDING i6i 

Befits the gravest moods, a priestly rite, — 
SiiEKiNAH blazing, and the mercy seat 
"With cherubim, the Holiest of all, 
As once a year the chiefliest priest may come, 
They stand with heads uncovered, while in rich. 
Beseeching tones a Pilgrim lifted voice 
In prayer, that God Omnipotent would grant 
With sovereign care to guide them, while they 
shaped 

An INSTRUMENT, a COMPACT, CHARTA, fit 

To fashion bravely forth long cherished dreams 

Of CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY ! 

How shall we picture this strange deed ? How 

cause 
To live on canvas, and in Seignior-calm, — 
In colours Eembrandt-grave — the sovereign scene 
Which rises on the offing of the mind ? 
How shall Ave feature Princes, all intent 
To frame the Charta Maxima, a creed 
To guide earth's latest day to mountain peaks 
Of light ? And these had felt a tyrant's heel ! 
Words falter on the lips, the pencil drops 
From nerveless hands, the beating heart is still, 
As in a Seer-rapt scene there bodies forth 
A very paradox to sight,— a frail, 
Small barque, a council chamber crowded, cramped 



i62 THE PILGRIMS 

And low, while rising Titan-like stand, clad 
In dignity, brave, grave and godlike men ! 
Scotch Covenanters at Gray Friars' Church 
In solemn league to save a virile faith, 
Dutch Burghers, stout and brave, when Leyden, 

loved 
Of God, so long beleaguered and distraught 
By cut-throats of King Philip, knave, once 

more 
Kenevved its fealty to the faith to stand 
For liberty or die, seem not so great 
As these ! 

With prophet-eyes behold a stone 
Cut out of the mountains without hands, shall one 
Day fill the earth ! For as Excalibur, 
(This was King Arthur's richly-jewelled sword), 
"When brandished in the sun eclipsed the light 
Of thirty torches, so shall they, their lives, 
Informed by virtues, golden to the heart. 
Beacon all ages to the glorious deeds 
Of high emprise ! And as Excalibur, 
When cast by Bedivere into the lake's 
Expanse, and felt from out the deep the grasp 
Of an immortal hand, as thrice it waved 
Its jewel-brightness o'er the mere, so these 
Were held in the grasp of mighty purposes, 



THE LANDING 163 

Hidden from eyes that will not see, foredoomed, 
One day, to lead the march of empire and 
The triumph of the race. 

Creed-critics, what 
Think you ? "Was this a deed colossal, fraught 
With doom to kingly rights, a creed to make 
Knees knock and faces ashen ? What say you 
To Calvin's earthquake creed, — the sover- 
eignty 
Of God, the parity of men ? This was 
A living truth, though prostrate in the dust 
Of centuries, predestinate to rise. 
One day, and topple down all kingly thrones, — 
The nesting places of the cockatrice. 
And such as suck the blood, or stick and sting 
The body politic, asp-like, and doom 
Mankind to bitter tears ! 

Here stopped by shoals. 
Or else by cunning craft, they turn the prow, 
(Shrouds shredded, sails in tatters, oaken ribs 
In seams agape, hearts fainting), to the land. 
They yield to fate, or Providence, (you take 
Your choice), give way to greed, (Dutch greed it 

seems), 
Sail round Cape Cod, and lo, they're home at last ! 



[64 THE PILGRIMS 

Home, home at last ! 

How shall we tell the story ? 

Home, home at last ; 

Oh, great their name and glory ! 

Let winter winds wail loud, 

And dark the storm-cloud lower ; 

What recks the Pilgrim band 

Of kingly wrath and power ! 

Home, home at last ! 
Long, long has been the vigil. 
Dark, dark the night. 
But they've a glad evangel. 
Let winter winds wail loud, 
And dark the storm-cloud lower, 
What recks the Pilgrim band 
Of kingly wrath and power ! 

Dark, dark the night ! 
Oh, long has been the vigil ; 
Fair dawn awakes, — 
Men hear the glad evangel. 
Let winter winds wail loud. 
Wild winds so frost and hoary ; 
]^o hand shall stay the march 
Of Pilgrim fame and glory. 

Dark frowns the sky ; 
Heroic, grand endeavour ! 
Strong beat their hearts ; 
What ! Falter they ? No, never! 



THE LANDING 165 

Let winter winds wail loud, 
And dark the storm-cloud lower ; 
What recks the Pilgrim band 
Of kingly "wi'ath, or power ! 

Ay, ho, land, ho ! And faintly fell the far 

Keverberating psalms on wintry winds, 

Wailed joyous, sweet and clear. E'en savage 

hearts. 
On sand-strewn shores might well have heard the 

sweet 
Davidic-Ainsworth melodies, so meet 
To tell a triumph near, the living hope 
In breasts long burdened with the yokelike doom 
Of DESTINY. They sang, and straggling woods, 
And far-off sounding shoals attuned themselves 
To echo back their songs, in pleasing plaint, — 
Long-metered, matchless melodies ! Perchance, 
In tender moods, they sang, as oft far back 
At ScROOBY : 

1. Shout to Jehovah, all the earth 

2. Serve ye Jehovah with gladness ; 

before Him come with singing mirth, 

3. Know that Jehovah, He God is : 

It's He that made us, and not we : 

His folk and sheep of His feeding, 

4. O, with confession enter ye 

His gates, His courtyards with praising ! 



166 THE PILGRIMS 

Confess to Him, bless ye His name, 
5. Because Jehovah, He good is : 

His mercy ever is the same : 
and His faith, unto all ages. 

Or if thought of guardianship 
Had filled the heart, they sang the Shepherd- 
Song,— 
The much-loved twenty-third sweet Psalm : 

1. Jehovah feedeth me, I shall not lack. 

2. In grassy folds. He down doth make me lye ; 

He gently leads me quiet waters by. 

3. He doth return my soul ; for His name's sake 

in paths of justice lead me quietly ; 

4. Yea, though I walk in dale of deadly shade, 

I'll fear no ill ; for with me Thou will be ; 
Thy rod Thy staff eke, they shaU com- 
fort me. 

5. For me a table Thou hast ready made ; 

in Thy presence that my distresses be ; 

Thou makest fat my head with ointin^ oil, 
my cup abounds. 6. Doubtless good 

and mercie 
shall all the days of my life follow me ; 
also within Jehovah's house, I shall 
to length of days repose me quietly- 



THE LANDING 167 

O ties 
Of hut and hall, — dear, sacred altar scenes, 
Where youth and age sang in the flickering glow 
Of dying embers on the hearth ! O loves. 
That did not long endure, — the cup of joys 
Now past ! E'en he who tells the Pilgrim tale, 
And feels his frailty, as in each new line 
Some imperfection treads, has ofttimes heard, 
In fancy, long-remembered voices, hushed 
In life's young spring, and fairy forms will flit 
Across the vista of the years, since he, 
In childhood's hours, with feet a russet-brown, 
Tramped through the dewy meads, or else, intent 
To seek the haunt of some loved denizen 
Of field or wood, came trudging footsore and 
A-weary home at eventide to feel 
A mother's warm caress ! In manhood's prime, 
One night, as in celestial light suffused, 
Kemembrance of his youth's dear, garish days 
Came like the floods on dry and arid wastes, 
And rising from his couch, in haste, his heart 
Surcharged with aching tenderness, he wrote, 
'Mid blinding tears, the paper stained and wet, 
This picture of the past : 

Juneberry blossoms and crab-apple trees I 
Crab-apple blossoms and Juneberry trees ! 



i68 THE PILGRIMS 

"White dogwood blossoms, that grew in the wood ! 
How I would like to go back if I could, 
Back to my boyhood once more if I could, 
Back to the days when I roamed in the wood ; 
Free as the squirrel that grinned on the tree, 
Saucily squinting and blinking at me, — 
Happy as sunlight can possibly be, 
Finding rare pleasures in all I could see ; 
How I would like to go back if I could. 
Back to the days when I roamed in the wood ! 

Years have gone swiftly and steadily by ; 

If only I could how gladly I'd try 

Just for an hour to live in the wood, 

Live a boy's life and roam in the wood, 

Feel the keen joyance of light heart and free ; 

The chipmunk and ground mole my fast friends 

should be ; 
Answer the cricket and tree-frog again, 
Mimic the throstle and wild, warbling wren ; 
No such kind pleasures I've had all these years. 
And fond recollections rise almost to tears. 
As I think of the days when I roamed in the wood, 
And my long-lost companions I had in the wood ! 

And oh, for the days that I spent by the brook, 
Fishing for minnows with bent pin or hook ! 
How I would like to go back to the brook 
To gather white pebbles, for clam-shells to look, 
To watch the fish play and the kingfisher dive. 
And see the snake-feeder continually strive 



THE LANDING 169 

To touch with his wing-tips the smooth water's 

breast, 
Nor e'en from his efforts a moment to rest ; 
I see it all now, as far backward I look ; 
Oh, how I would like to go back to the brook, 
Where often in springtime my journey I took, 
Just to catch minnows with bent pin and hook ! 

How I would like to go back if I could, 
Back to the days when I roamed in the wood ; 
Back to the house that stood far up the lane. 
And find all things there exactly the same, — ■ 
The wood-pile, the well-sweep, the garden so trim, 
The home of my childhood, both outside and in. 
And mother to greet me, as often I came. 
Trudging footsore and weary home up the long 

lane. 
That dear, sweet young mother, who long years 

ago 
So tenderly loved me, (she oft told me so) ; 
When twilight would gather she'd tuck me in bed, 
And see, " Now I lay me " was properly said ; 
O God ! I would give all I am, or shall be. 
To bow one more night at that dear mother's 

knee! 

But ah, just here. 
One says, " Why take Art's way to tell a tale 
Were better told in plain, straightforward prose ? 
State truths directly ; on from fact to fact. 



170 THE PILGRIMS 

With logic and with fine precision draw 
Such meet conclusions, as the facts will fit, 
Then end the whole, and let's have done ! " 

Art has 
Its field, not in the changing things of sense ! 
That which men in a work-day world call truth, — 
Mere seemingness of things, laws, science, due 
Proportion of blind forces, (blind to those 
Who will not see), the atom, if you please, — 
Pure fiction of our picture-loving sense, 
Yet potent in the science of our day. 
Lame lumps to conjure with, — these are not truths, 
Truths real and abiding, but the modes 
Of truth ! Say, shadowings, while truth itself, 
Lies not within man's vulgar gaze, appeals 
Not to the intellect, or sense, is first, — 
Ay, primal and eternal in the flux 
And flow of work-day worlds ! Believe me, akt 
A double purpose serves, — records \hQ facts, 
(The seemingness of things), and bodies forth 
For SENSIBILITY truth's own true self ! 
Historic prose, O Critic, what is that ? 
Art tells ikiQ facts, nay, goes heyond the facts, — 
Brings to the apprehending heart, or soul, 
(Or whatsoe'er shall stand for faculty 
Of truth), the esseiices of things, the self. 



THE LANDING 171 

The inner self of things ! Nay, art can see 
Beyond the facts, — else truth, and beauty, 

(God), 
Are empty words, and foreign to the soul ! 
Art tells the tale? Twice so, — informs men's 

minds 
With all-engrossing facts, (mere seeming things), 
And purifies the heart, so saves the soul ! 
Art's way shall tell the facts, both fanciful 
And fixed, (twice tell the tale), regale with facts 
Stupendous all the lounging, wide-mouthed throng. 
And startle them to agony, as like. 
Of wonder seven days in length, and save 
Their souls ? Nay, art, if souls shall live, must do 
Its work in art's own way, — must reach the 

heart ! 
Must tell in seeming artless way, (which is 
Perfection of all art), how puppets, once 
Despised and weak, stood one day Princes 

crowned 
At Leyden's gate, dared cross the trackless seas, 
Envisage storms, the perils of the Deep, 
And on the sand-girt, wild New England shores. 
Loomed Titans in the annals of the race ! 
Say, save the soul ? Art's way it is to grasp 
The verities, that change not in the flux 
And flow of all this great round cosmic cheat, 



172 THE PILGRIMS 

So real to our senses, yet so less 
Than witless wind in the eternities 
That wait the ransomed soul ! 



And if, perchance, 
An artist shall relume the living deed 
Of centuries past, with chisel's touch shall bid 
It rise and live, say, " There's LAOCOOisr, let 
Him strive, and die ! " or better, " Here is your 
St. Peter's, sir, — now enter and be saved ! " 
If he with cunning artist-skill, shall touch 
It into life and immortality 

The crowning deed, the truth which formless, yet 
Kot fruitless, lies in his own breast, and bid 
It live and breathe, the Pilgrim tale, will he 
Not also live ? 

Behold they stand on bleak 
New England shores, houseless and shelterless ! 
The winter winds go wildering to the sea, 
And come again laden with blinding blasts, — 
While the dark sullen clouds and leaden skies, 
Eeckless of hearts long-burdened with the weight 
Of DESTINY, look on in angry mood. 
But they are not alone ! A gracious hand 
With palm outspread is shelter, ay, and shield ! 
The hounding wrath of Herod and the thick, 



THE LANDING 173 

Deep night, which ages long had palled the light 
Of truth, the cruel screed of catchpoll-priests 
That hurtled o'er the heads of men who would 
Not worship at the King's behest, the storm 
And tempest's rage, wild beasts and savage men, 
A winter's awful night, nor all the foe 
Of truth could muster, once availed to check 
The onward march of men, whose highest joy 
Was fealty to their God. 

If this were all, 
Then might we say, they did their best and worst, 
These demons of the night, — that all the brood 
Of hell conspired against the truth, and yet 
"Without avail, that Principalities, 
And Powers of the Air, intent to do 
Them hurt, in the pale face of truth, saw signs 
Of coming wrath, and fled like hunted stags, 
When great Apollo draws the bow ! 

This was 
Not all : The biting greed of gentlemen 
ADVENTURERS, with big incorporate rights 
To take the pound of flesh, to merchandise 
In man's necessities, (so gorge their scrips) ; 
Ay, levy tribute on the weak, and prove 
The rule, that little fish shall feed the large, — 



174 THE PILGRIMS 

Was this the straw to strain the camel's back ? 
Shall not all gentlemen adventueers 
Demand the fleece, and have their claims allowed, 
(Trusts' way), and by authority of law 
Throttle the victim, till the dole is dealt, 
(The robber-baron's right) ? With might enforce 
The utmost farthing of the pact, or squeeze 
The drupe to its last drop ? 

So I, in wrath, 
Brooding on all that these had borne, — the years 
Through which they toiled to break the fetters which 
Had bound them fast, — the scene on Humber's 

banks, — 
The FLIGHT with Herod on the track, — took reeds, 
To pipe in harsh, uneven tones, the scorn 
I felt for deeds which make men mourn ! 



I laugh, O my soul, a strange laugh, as 

I think of the strife 
And contention of darkness and light, the low 

schemes that are rife 
In the counsels of Satan and those he would 

choose to enthrone 
In high places, the Herods and Prelates, who 

ever make groan 
Pilgrim puppets and such as seem weak, till at 

length in His wrath 



THE LANDING i75 

And fierce anger God turns ! (I chuckle and 

laugh a low laugh.) 
You have seen the great king of the canines, 

noble MASTIFF, at last 
Patience tried past endurance, turn fair 

on the flee, with a blast 
Of his fury send yelping amain the mean 

curs, as they howl 
At his heels ! So God says His no ! to the 

Princes that prowl 
In the night, (Principalities, Powers), and 

back with affright 
Pell-mell rush Prelates and Devils till far 

out of sight, — 
How strikingly fair is the figure ! 



I laugh, 

as I think 
How they cower and flee at a breath of His 

nostrils, a blink ; 
How the myriad minions of Satan are matched 

by a touch 
Of His finger, a word from His lips, 

the usurpers and such 
As bear sway over conscience and fetter men's 

souls. And I laugh 
A dark laugh of stern enmity, deep in my soul, 

a glee, half 
Of it hatred and half of it scorn for a 

conscienceless creed 



176 THE PILGRIMS 

That enslaves men and makes them the puppets 

and prey of a greed 
Hell-begotten I I wis that the Caui-Mark 

indelibly seals 
For perdition the brow of the Statesman, or 

Ruler, who feels 
No compassion for brothers deprived of 

their God-given right 
To the fruit of their toil and the free 

air of heaven, the light 
Of the sun, and a voice in all laws 

by which they are ruled. 
God grant by a touch of thy grace my hot 

brow may be cooled ! 
For I see, with a blush and the blood mounting 

high on my cheek 
The cannibal instinct of men who would 

feed on the weak, — 
Feed their flesh on the flesh of a brother, 

and build their great thrones 
On a carcass and skull ! 



Is there aught, save 

God's blood, that atones 
For a deed so unspeakably cruel and vile ? Oh, 

I feel. 
As oft at the shrine of God's infinite 

goodness I kneel, 
Pierce my soul the keen iron of hate for a creed 

which denies 



THE LANDING 177 

To a peasant his heirship with Princes, and 

all it implies 
Of the freedom and right to maintain all 

unfettered his soul ! 
For the blood-mark of Cain on men's brows is 

the proof of the dole 
They so cruelly deal to then* brothers, pour 

into their lap 
Only hate, when the soul is a-famished 

for love, ay, and cap 
The great climax of wrong with pretense of 

faith's fealty to God. 
(How they bow at the mandates of Satan, his 

beck, or his nod ! ) 

Have you seen, when the fall winds grow bitter, 

the kine on the lee 
All a-huddled and drawn close together, as 

if from the sea 
To ward off from each other the cold, chilling 

blast ? And shall they. 
Men born in God's unage, the sons of a King, 

not to-day 
Stand more closely in phalanx, as firm as 

the adamant hills 
'Gainst oppression and cannibal, conscienceless 

greed and the ills 
Of an age, when men trample their kind in 

the dust for the gain 
It will bring ? And shall men more than beasts 

without conscience and aim 



178 THE PILGRIMS 

Fear to stand ? Shall they stand, as they stood 

back at Scrooby, a herd 
In the storm all a-huddled and helpless, 

without e'en a word 
Of resentment 'gainst prelates and priests, and 

the fiend-fury wrath 
Of a King ? 



But the God of Sabaoth whose 

hand ever hath 
The oppressed in its keeping, (I laugh in high glee), 

set His FACE 
Fierce to Satan, checkmated his game, took his 

trick with an ace, 
As men say, till at length, in His name, stand 

they Princes, and crowned 
At the gates of dear Leyden, loved Leyden, 

forever renowned 
For its measureless meed of compassion to 

Pilgrims in flight ! 
Have you seen in the springtime all sun-crowned 

in full blaze of light 
Far above the high fir trees the cedar's tall form 

loom so grand 
On men's sight ? So they seemed, so they were 

in both soul, heart and hand 
Like tall cedars ! 



I picture them pigmies that 
howled at their heels, — 



THE LANDING 179 

Cruel curs, with a snarl and a penny-fice howl 

at their heels, 
All unworthy to loose their shoes' latchet, or 

climb to their feet 
In an act of obeisance, the soul-stoop, low, 

prone, as is meet 
From mere churls, (shall I say it ?), who fatten 

themselves on the crumbs 
Princes leave ! 

But a song of the cedar and fir tree 
now thrums 
In my soul : 

Lift your heads, O ye cedars ! The firs 

on the hills 
Are a-ripple with sunshine. The tinkle 

of rills 
Down the hill-slopes, the chirrup of birds 

fill the morn 
With sweet voices, the eve with a dirge 

as forlorn 
As the sough of the sea, when the Autumn 

winds wail. 
Lift your heads, O ye cedars. Thrice hail, 

and all hail ! 

Lift your heads, sun-crowned cedars ! The 

larch and the fir 
Feel the glow of the sunshine, the rustle 

and stir 



i8o THE PILGRIMS 

Of the birds at their matins and vespers, 

I ween ; 
While the sun in his journey gilds all 

with the sheen 
Of his limitless light from the East to 

the West. 
Hear my song, O ye fir trees, — the cedar 

is best ! 



Lift your heads, kingly cedars, tall 

Pilgrims in flight 
Far above the high level. The Oak 

in his might 
Stands a giant in stature, strong-rooted 

and based ; — 
Stands a pigmy that giant, its 

branches inlaced 
With the Larch and the Fir, as the 

cedar's tall form 
Bears aloft its great arms, bares its head 

to the storm. 



Lift your heads, Pilgrim-princes ! The races 

of men 
Are the larches and firs and the oaks 

of the fen, — 
Are the pigmies that prattle, the puppets 

that groan, 
At the feet of a Monarch mere 

vassals and prone. 



THE LANDING i8i 

Lift your heads, Pilgrim-pkinces ! On moun- 
tain and lea 

Dwell the Pilgrim descendants 
unfettered and free ! 

As I ended the song, a simple 

refrain, 
Humming softly the anapest measures again 

and again, 
There grew rife in my heart strange fancies, as 

from over the years 
Came the echo of deeds done in anguish 

of spirit and tears. 
And I said to my soul, " Will truth again rise 

from the dust, 
As at ScROOBY, stand upright, once more balk, 

or baffle, the lust 
For man's blood ? Shall the labour and toil of 

the millions but feed 
The rapacious prey-birds, cram their maws, so 

a-famished with greed, 
As with scream and fell swoop from their eyries 

they light on their prey ? 
Shall truth, stiff, stark, stolid with horror, 

stand palsied for aye, — 
Stand speechless and voiceless, as prone on the 

prey with beak 
And talons struck deep in the vitals and flesh 

of the weak 
The inhuman of men slay their brothers ? Leave 

men to the fate 



i82 THE PILGRIMS 

They seem fit for, rent, riven and ravished of 

all but the hate 
Born of ages of greed and oppression ? 

Then I 

who had seen 
In the springtime the bulbs burst and bloom, and 

the flowery sheen 
Of the meadows and hilltops reveal the 

promise and pledge 
Of fair fruitage and harvests of ripening grain, 

and the hedge 
Which encircles the vineyards grow green in 

the deepening glow 
Of the sun, as he marches still Northward, said, 

" So, ay, e'en so. 
Shall rise in men's hearts, like sweet fountains of 

healing and balm. 
To assuage and allay the distemper with 

infinite calm, 
A new love for their fellows, as ages ago 

in our kith. 
In a far away Judean village, (a legend 

or myth ?), 
Grew an infinite joy sweet and tender, as down 

from the skies 
Came incarnate God's love to redeem men." 

The vision 
outvies 
All the reach and the stretch of man's faculty 
strong to conceive 



THE LANDING 183 

What will be in the ages of glory, as men 

shall retrieve 
The lost power, the good they have sighed for, 

the joy they shall seek 
In the sweet ministration of service to 

strong and to weak. 
Then outburst on my vision the glory 

resplendent ! I saw 
The triumph and reign universal of love 

and of law ; 
Saw the Mountain of God undistraught, as 't was 

free from all hurt 
To the man, to the beast, to the highest, the 

humblest of earth ; 
Saw the lion and lamb sport together, the child's 

nimble feet 
Strike the dews from the verdant wild grasses in 

kinship replete ; 
SaAV its hand draw the tether, as gracefully 

onward and slow. 
Through the daisies and crisp watercresses, where 

sounds soft and low 
Fret the air with the tenderest lullabies mortals 

can hear. 
Gently lead its companions unconscious of 

malice or fear. 
While the brook babbled blithely, yet softly 

its message of cheer, — 
" Lo, the triumph of love and of law, it is 

here, it is here ! " 



t84 THE PILGRIMS 

Then a calm like June zephyrs, blown softly 

o'er lakelet and rill, 
Hushed my heart's peevish plaint and repining, as 

naught now if ill 
Could envisage the face, seen once darkly, the 

FACE I now saw, — 
The ineffable face plainly telling the triumph 

of LOVE and of law ! 



And so, I dare say in my heart, as my free 

fancy runs, 
That the fame of the Pilgrims will grow with 

the process of suns ; 
That the Mayflower Compact on, on, and still 

on, through the years, 
"Will bring healing and balm to the nations, 

assuagement of tears 
To hearts broken, the triumph of good, the 

enthronement of love ! 
This balsam I feel in the air, both 

around, and above. 

Intent 
On high emprise behold the giant race ! 
These were a breed to bear the brunt of winds 
Adversely turned upon a struggling barque. 
And prove to all the world, that great deeds 

MAKE 

Men great ! 



THE LANDING 185 

Their right it was to follow truth, 
Where'er it leads, for had not Calvin flashed 
The light far over lands and seas ? Had not 
Genevan earthquake-thunderbolts, with all 
Their Calvin-coruscating blaze inspired 
John Eobinson to say, " If from God's Word 
New light shall break, then follow it, as birds 
The fowler's pipe " ? 

These were God's heralds now, 
Precursors of the daAvn of larger faith, — 
Brave seamen on an untried sea, with one 
Lone STAR to guide, a Bethlehem-Calvin star, 
A magi-beaconing light, — the Sovereignty 
Of God, the Parity of men ! 

A boon 
Is freedom, — let her cause prevail ! Though long 
Enthralled by greed, and crushed by cruel wrongs, 
How oft have visions of her gracious sway 
Haunted the sleeping and the waking hours ! 
From Eden's bowers, where the tendril vines 
And olives spread their branches, all a-freight 
With luscious grapes and drupes, as underneath 
The Parents of the race found cooling shade, 
Comes the sad tale of innocence betrayed. 
Of lives embittered and enthralled by greed 



i86 THE PILGRIMS 

Of power and gain, and the long years, through which 
The SERPENT, wounded by the heel it fain 
Would bruise, drags its slow length. 

The Pact is signed 
And sealed, and destiny is at its height ! 
On dark December's thirtieth day they choose 
The site of Plymouth, franchise dearly bought, 
And these are home at last ! No more on Trent's 
Green banks would they pursue the arts of peace ; 
No more in happy mood follow the path 
Of ScROOBY water, as in days long past 
They came from near and far to hear God's Word 
From Smyth and Kobinson, (or such as dared 
Proclaim the truth, despite the queenly wrath) ; 
No more at Scrooby Manor hear the Word, 
And oft, the service done, partake of bread 
With Brewster, generous host, and elder too, — 
A GUARDIAN wise of all their treasured truths ! 
For Good Queen Bess had died, and with her died 
The queenly wrath, while James, dread sovereign 

SAINT, 

The Herod and the tyrant of his day. 
Harried the puppets from the land ! 

Who were 
These erstwhile pilgrim-puppets, now become 



THE LANDING 187 

The Peinces of the world ? You men, who flout 
And fleer the virile creed, would you not have 
Me sing ? 

I ? Shall I tell you how sweetly the chords of a 

metrical measure 
Eunelike, and ghostlike, unceasingly haunt 

me, — dear lost chords. 
E'en till I fain would recover them, sing them 

anew for my pleasure ? 
Clearly I see the path of the puppets, now 

Princes, as ever 
Brooding on times that are past, I see them 

in pictures and moving 
Grandly o'er treacherous seas ! 

So I pipe to the 

pibroch of Yirgil : 
Brave were the men who sailed over the seas, 

(and the women), so boldly, — 
Harried by Herodlike foes, yet intent on the 

holiest mission ; 
Puppets at ScROOBY and prone 'neath the feet of 

a tyrant unholy 
Stand one day Princes and crowned at the wide- 
open gates of loved Leyden, — 
Found there the freedom denied them in England, 

their homeland. 
Fostered the child born of travail pains felt in 

the labour of ages, 



i88 THE PILGRIMS 

Long intent to conceive and bring forth a 

PROGENY greater, 
Ay, grander in purpose, by far, than the stars in 

the skies had looked down on ! 



These were the men and the women undaunted 

by duty or danger. 
Fearless when Prelates and Priests had 

hailed them to dungeons or gibbets ; 
Ever in purpose as true as the stars, and so faith- 
ful, that nowise 
Feared they the wrath of the King, feared the}^ 

only the anger of heaven ; 
Feared only sin, and its guilt, and a conscience 

that brooks any evil, — 
Feared not the face of a man, though he be thrice 

over a monarch. 
Feared only God, (shall I say it ?), with love and 

with fealty obeyed Him ! 
These were the Pilgrims staunch-hearted who 

crowded the Cabin and Council, 
Titan in stature they loom in that far-away, 

distant perspective. 
Figures heroic and clothed in the garments of 

grandeur and glory ! 

How shall we tell it, the story, the worshipful, 

marvellous story; 
How in the Cabin they met, in the Mayflower 

Cabin assembled, 



THE LANDING 189 

Filled with a purpose as grand as the stars in 
the skies have looked down on ? 

How shall we tell it, the story, the marvellous, 
worshipful story, — 

Pilgrims on treacherous seas, and embarked on 
the holiest mission, 

Titan-like, big with a purpose as pure as the sun- 
light of heaven, 

In their purpose excelling the Titans of myth 
and of story ; 

Standing majestic and strong on summits so high 
and so hoary ? 

These were mere puppets one day, as they toiled 
on the farmlands at Sceooby, 

Hated of Heeod, the King, and the Prelates and 
Priests of his kingdom, — 

Born to a destiny grander than stars in the skies 
had looked down on ! 

Chief in the Council of State was John Carver, 

first Governor of Plymouth, 
Chosen ere yet from the Mayflower barque 

the Pilgrims departed, 
Man of ripe years, and in wisdom and strength 

e'en surpassing all others, 
Man of affairs and vise counsels, a leader and 

deacon at Leyden. 
He with his friend, Egbert Cushman, had gone 

on a mission to England, 
Perfected plans, that the Pilgrims, erst puppets, 

might cross the Avjde ocean, 



I90 THE PILGRIMS 

Find an asylum for faith, — lay the corner stone 
of a nation ! 

His was the hand that first signed in the May- 
flower Cabin the Compact, — 

Signed in the faith of the triumph of truth, and 
of free institutions ! 

This was John Carver, the leader, a man of 
I'ipe years and wise counsels ; 

Titan of Titans was he in the courage of heart, 
and in action ! 



Carver, and Bradford, and Brewster, and 
Standish, and Alden, and Fuller ! 

Men of a noble breed and a purpose so pure and 
so vh'ile, — 

Lives in a pact with God, and the truth, in quest 
of a freedom 

Ages denied them were now in the Council in- 
tent on a purpose. 

Prophetlike, Seerlike, and Godlike, intent on the 
holiest purpose ! 

How would we paint in grave colours, if only 
our hand had the cunning, 

Serious faces upturned, as they kneel in the May- 
flower Cabin, 

Faces as Godlike and strong as the creed of 
John Calvin could make them. 

Faces shining, as down from the Mount came 
Moses with tables 



THE LANDING 191 

Graved by the finger of God ! Do you see them, 

the puppets, now Princes, 
Cramped in the Mayflower Cabin, and seek- 
ing for wisdom, — 
Asking Jehovah to give them light, to guard 

them and keep them. 
Prosper the Mayflower Pact with its promise 

of hope to the nations. 
Prosper the Compact ordained, the Charter of 

free institutions ? 
Ah, you see them ? But who of the sons of men, 

on a canvas. 
Touched into living glow, yet grave, can paint 

me the picture 
Eyes had erst not seen in all God's boundless 

creation ? 
None, (shall I say it ?), with pencil, or brush, can 

show me the picture 
Now on my heart's four walls ! 



Had some artist divine 

Then would awake, as life from the grave, the 

Mayflower vision 
Filled with living hope, and the matchless scene 

on the canvas. 
Ghostlike, would haunt men's minds down all 

the ages, and ever 
Picture the Pilgrims Prometheus-like in service 

for mortals, — 



192 THL PILGRIMS 

Picture them Titan-like, (Godlike), intent on the 
holiest purpose ! 



This is the scene then to paint, if only man's hand 

had the cunning, — 
Princes erst puppets in prayer, in the cramped, 

crowded Mayflower Cabin, 
Birthplace of liberty, law, and of popular, free 

institutions. 
Born of the Compact ordained for the healing 

and health of the nations ! 



"What did the Seer-Princes see, as they met in 

the Mayflower Cabin, 
Wrapped in the glow of seraphic light ? In the 

process of ages 
Saw they not, as the prophet sees, kingship and 

dominions 
Wane, and wide o'er the world Democracy 

waxing triumphant ? 

Brewster, the modest, the meek, the elder, 

the elegant scholar, — 
What did he see, the seraphic one, in heavenly 

visions ? 
What did he see in the Pact ? The triumph of 

faith and of freedom ! 
Brewster saw in the Pact the promise of 

national greatness ! 



THE LANDING 193 

Bradford, the brave, (lion-hearted), Brad- 
ford, the serious statesman. 

Saw in the Mayflower Pact a beacon to lofty 
endeavour. 

Saw in the Mayflower Charta the promise 
and pledge of a nation ! 



"WiNSLOW, the diplomat, advocate, faithful, 

sagacious defender. 
Peacemaker, trucemaker, magistrate, 

(schooled in the arts of the statesman). 
Saw in the Pact of the Pilgrims a star in the 

skydust of nations, — 
Saw a new star in the West, in meridian 

splendour ascending 
Hesper-like, leading the stars, and resplendent in 

glory,— 
Star of the West, Calvin-star, and destined 

to light the whole heavens ! 
Warily wise was he in dealing with aliens and 

strangers, 
Truthful and just, — and a master of courteous 

manners and customs. 



Alden, the gallant young cooper, the friend and 
companion of Standish, 

Alden, the lover, (Gallant), the trusted com- 
panion of Standish, 

Alden of romance and story, the husband of 
charming Priscilla, 



194 THE PILGRIMS 

Saw in the Pact of the Pilgrims the promise of 

social position, — 
"Womanhood honoured and crowned with the 

queenliest crowm that has ever 
Pressed the fair brow of a queen in the sunni- 
est days of an Empire ; 
Saw in the loyal devotion of women to purity, 

honour 
Hearthstones resplendent in virtue, in valour, in 

moral achievement ! 
This was John Alden, the cooper, the friend and 

companion of Standish, 
Alden, the silent young lover, the lover of 

charming Priscilla, — 
Loving the Pilgrim maid with a love as unselfish 

as ever 
Climbed to the feet of a duty and calmly made its 

obeisance, 
Worthily winning the hand of the lovely Puritan 

maiden ! 

Then there was Fuller, the doctor, Fuller, 
the kindly physician, — 

Heart with a pain for each sorrow and cheer for 
heavy afflictions. 

Spending his life without stint in unselfish and 
sweet ministration ! 

Thoughtfully patient and tenderly kind in his 
waitings and w^atchings, 

Guardian angel, when many a life in the deep- 
ening shadows 



THE LANDING 195 

Seemed to be passing, and ever with cheering, 

comforting service 
Breathing forth hope to despondent hearts long 

in the thrall of affliction. 
This was the Pilgrim doctor, the tender and 

kindly physician, 
Serving with no thought of gain save the joy of 

the service he rendered, — 
Glad for the balm he might bring and the sweet 

ministration of healing ! 
What did he see in the Compact, the tender and 

kindly physician. 
See in the Mayflower Pact, the Charter or- 
dained by the Pilgrims ? 
This is the vision he saw in the cramped, crowded 

Mayflower Cabin, 
(This is the vision he saw by the river, the river 

Hidekkel),— 
This is the vision he saw, as he looked down the 

vista of ages. 
Standing a tree with its branches, a Banyan, 

spread wide o'er the peoples ; 
Bearing twelve manners of fruit, — its leaves for 

the healing of nations ! 

Last, but not least, is Miles Standish, the 
valiant, redoubtable Captain ; 

Soldier and patriot he, a lover of country and 
freedom : 

Skilled in the arts of a warrior he fought for the 
Dutch in the Lowlands ; 



196 THE PILGRIMS 

Puritan Englishman born, in his soul he abhorred 

Spain's dominion 
Over the Lowlands and drew his sword with the 

ancestral courage, 
Centuries back, had ennobled the name and the 

fame of the Standish ! 
He had no doubt joined the Pilgrims, while yet 

they were living at Leyden, 
Drawn by his Puritan leadings to men of kindred 

convictions ; 
Though dissenting, he from Dissenters refused 

the Communion, — 
Staunchest of Puritans he refused the Church's 

Communion ! 



This was Miles Standish, the stern, the valiant, 
redoubtable Captain, 

Leader, commander in chief of the Pilgrim 
defenders and forces, — 

Fearless, a Gideon he, though a man, not of words, 
but of action ! 

This was Miles Standish, the Captain, re- 
doubtable " sword-of-the-white-men," 

There in the Council of State, in the low-roofed 
Mayflower Cabin, 

Silent, intent on the stars, the horoscope of 
a nation. 



What did he see in the Cabin, the valiant 
" sword-of-the-white-men" ? 



THE LANDING 197 

See with his hand on his sword, as he sat in the 

Mayflower Cabin ? 
Saw the heavens grow bright with the promise 

of starlight supernal, 
Eead in the deep astral glow the promise and 

pledge of a nation 
Greater and grander by far than the stars in the 

skies had looked down on ! 
This was the vision he saw, the insatiable 

" sword-of-the-white-men," 
Standing an image and strong, with a sword and 

a trident of justice, 
Keady to strike off the fetters and shackles which, 

ages, had bound men, 
Valiant Kedresser of wrongs, and Avenger of 

blood and oppressions, — ■ 
Noble Protector of peoples and islands un- 
numbered, and ever 
Quick to enforce on the strong respect for the 

rights of the weakest ! 

These were a few of the Pilgrims who crowded 

the Cabin and Council, — 
Men of a blood and a breed to envisage the 

storms of the ocean, 
Keckless of noonday destructions, or pestilence 

walking in darkness. 
Bravely intent on the mission they believed 

divinely appointed, — 
Filled with a purpose as grand as the stars in the 

skies have looked down on ! 



198 THE PILGRIMS 

Alone, unsheltered, on the bleak 
New England shores brave men and womkn 

stood 
The sponsors of a virile creed, nor once 
They wavered. Yet how often o'er the sea's 
Wide waste their hearts returned to Scrooby, as 
In fancies, and in dreams, they lived again 
The artless life of peace and plenty ! What 
Sweet memory of festal days was theirs ! 
How oft in that dear land had orient Hope 
Gilded the arching skies ! The paths by which 
In childhood's garish days they travelled grew 
To Appian-broad highways of pleasure, — youth's 
One lure was love, manhood's some high em- 
prise. 
And peace and plenty seemed a rising tide ! 
Each season brought its harvesting of good. 
From heath-clad downs to the far-falling fens 
Spring garlanded man's prospect. Bu'ds came ere 
The copses shed their winter garments, seer 
And brown, to pipe the earliest melodies. 
The larch and fir put on a lighter green ; 
And crocuses and primrose blooms, dispersed 
Like vagrant snowflakes in the winding lanes, 
With buttercups and blue forget-me-nots, 
(Poured out as 't were libations to the gods), — 
These made the land a Paradise ! 



THE LANDING 199 

How like 
The lips of love did zephyrs kiss the brow, 
As wearied with their toil the tillers came 
At eve across the glebe ! How the skies smiled 
Upon them as the sun rose out o' the sea ! 
In the long winter nights what safety theirs, 
If the storm burst and drifting snows closed all 
The portals ! As they gathered at the hearth 
How tender was the mood, if, chance, they heard 
Above the tinklings of the flock and fold, 
(And the complaining voice of hurtling winds). 
The bleat of one that from the Keep had strayed ; 
Joy followed joy as days have their to-morrows. 
Each several season poured its horn of good 
Into the lap of life. Spring brought its blooms. 
And Autumn gave the ripened fruits. Winter, 
With its mantle, covered the darkened earth 
With ermine-white. The peat-lit hearth sent forth 
Its glow, the steepled shrine its silver notes. 
While from the hut and manor hall came songs 
Of " Peace, good- will to all mankind " : 



Girt round with light unknown to land or sea, 
The Shepherds stand entranced on Bethlehem's 

plain ; 
While o'er the dronings of a sleeping world 
Peal forth the accents of the anthem-strain, — 



200 THE PILGRIMS 

Glory to God in the highest, 
Peace, peace, good-will ; 
Glory to God in the highest, 
Peace, good- will to men. 

Kises a star, it purples all the East ; 
The Magi follow in its golden train ; 
Back roil the sable curtains of the night, 
And Hope grows strong in human hearts again. 

Prone in the manger of a lowly stall 
The Prince of Peace a fragile infant lies, 
While to the nations groping for the light 
The heralds of a better day arise. 

Out on Judea's hills a carol hymned 
By angel lips disturbs the silent night. 
As o'er Moriah's cloud-capped, sacred walls 
The STAR sends forth a strangely lucent light. 

High up the steeps where shepherds watch by 

night, 
Where flocks on heather and on bracken graze. 
The drowsy tinklings of the folded sheep 
Are lost in paeans of the sweetest praise. 

List, now, as softly o'er the troubled years 
We hear once more the music's sweet refrain ; 
We tune our hearts to notes of noblest praise, 
And eclK) back the angels' words again, — 



THE LANDING 201 

Glory to God in the highest, 
Peace, peace, good- will ; 
Glory to God in the highest, 
Peace, good- will to men. 

Oh, hear the bells, the bells, the bells. 
The Yule-tide bells, so soft and clear, 
The bells, the bells, the bells, the bells. 
The bells, the bells of royal cheer ! 
King out, Yule-bells, in joyful swells 
Sweet messages of peace, good-will, 
Across the meads and snow-white dells, 
From hut to palace, door to door ; 
Good-will, good-will, good-will, good- will 
To prince and peasant, rich and poor; 
And o'er all lands send forth the peal 
Of world-wide peace and human weal. 

Hark, how the angels sing ! 
Wide let the chorus ring ! 
List, what the shepherds hear, 
Hark, now, the words of cheer : 

Peace, peace, good- will to all mankind ; 
Peace, peace, good- will to every clime ; 
To Saxon, Latin, Celt and Turk ; 
To Cossack, Russian, prince or serf, 
Malay, Mongolian, Teutons, Koords, 
Whoe'er shall hear the angels' words. 
Peace, peace, good- will, good-will and peace j 



202 THE PILGRIMS 

May human strife forever cease, 
The Christ ascend His royal throne, 
And every land His Kingship own. 



Oh, hear the bells, the bells, the bells, 

The Yule-tide bells, afar, a-near. 

The beUs, the bells, the bells, the bells, 

The royal bells of royal cheer. 

The bells, the bells, so soft and clear ! 

May all the lands the music hear 

Of peace, good-will and kindly cheer, 

Good-will and peace, afar, a-near. 

And all discordant notes be dumb ! 

May war its wicked course have run. 

No more let wrong hold cruel sway 

But usher in the ampler day 

Of peace, good- will to all mankind, 

To races born of every clime ; 

May every sorrow turn to joy ; 

No more let hate or wrong destroy 

The fountain spring of human good 

The world-wide sense of brotherhood ! 



But mark the heavy, mournful word. 
The touching, plaintive minor chord. 
Why move these lines with measured tread and 

slow ? 
Fair, manly forms are lying mute and low. 
Bright glows the Yule-log on the hearth, 
But sadly sounds the Yule-bells soft and low ; 



THE LANDING 203 

Sweet sounds that come across the snow 

A sad tale tell to our dear mother earth : 

True hearts war-widowed, sane but sad, 

How shall they e'er again be glad, 

Since Yule-tide brings not back again 

The hearthstone joys that sweetly once have 

been ? 
Ay, in our hearts a living pain 
Tells now of joys that sweetly once have been. 
Sweet bells, sad bells, sound softly o'er the snow, 
And tell the mournful tale in cadence soft and 

low. 

Peace, peace, good-will ! And o'er the dells 
And snow-white meads are heard the bells ; 
In soft, sweet tones the music swells, 
From spire and steeple rises, swells ; 
From belfries where the jackdaws dwell, 
Church spires where noisy jackdaws dwell, 
Come voices blending with the bells, 
Do well, do well, do well, do well. 
Peace, peace, good- will, good-will, good- will ! 
Sweet angel voices seem the bells. 
As out on crisp winds sharp and clear 
Are heard the mellow tones and clear. 
Do well, do Avell, do well, do well. 
Peace, peace, good- will, good-will, good- will ; 
Good- will and peace, good- will and peace ; 
O haste, O come. Thou Prince of Peace ; 
Haste, usher in the crowning day. 
And o'er all lands the sceptre sway I 



204 THE PILGRIMS 

But these 
Once puppets in the march of truth now stood 
God's Princes on the wild New England shores, 
Predestinate to prove, — that men are born 

To DO GREAT DEEDS, and GREAT DEEDS MAKE 
MEN GREAT ! 



I wrought at these my Pilgrim Rhymes, 

In expectation that a friend 
Would read them, and, as in the times 

Our love for each was growing, send 
His greeting, " Here you hit, and there 

You miss, the mark ! " 

I little dreamed, 
That while I daily strove with care 

To please him, (and the labour seemed 
So sweet because of this our love), 

That ere had ended quite my task, 
A sudden call, and from above. 

Would wound my heart, and lay the mask 
Of death on his dear face ! 

" Too late," 
I heard his angel- warder say : 
" He's gone, the door is closed, the gate 



THE LANDING 205 

Is shut ! Grieve not, for when the day 
Dawns and the shadows flee, his face 
Will smile on you ! " 

On the far height, 
As watching me, one of a race 

Advanced in knowledge turned the light 
Of loving eyes on me, to lure 

Me skyward ! His — I ween — his eyes 
Looked down ; — and yet I am not sure, 

For mists, (or tears), had dimmed the skies ! 



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